Demon's Essence
by Nagatsu
Summary: What happens when Dumbledore hires a teacher for a new class. Non-Magical Combat. He gets more than he bargained for, thats what. From the teacher's POV. Please read and review.
1. Prologue

Disclamer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of J.K.Rowlings work, storylines, etc.

Demon's Essence

Prologue

It was early, still light out, and the banquet room was already full of bustling people, from children only eleven or twelve to those bordering adulthood. At the head of the room though, there are an assortment of middle-aged people to those that look as though they could tell you _exactly_ how the pyramids were built. One of the latter with long... very long, straw-like white hair stands and clears his throat. After a few seconds, total silence overcomes the room. "Now that you've all been sorted into your respective houses, I would like to welcome you all back to Hogwarts. Also before we begin the banquet, I would like to introduce a new professor and give you all some details on a new class being offered starting this semester. This is professor Beriath." The grizzled old man says as he gestures to a comparatively young man. The person in question looks to be in his mid to late twenties, and has obviously seen more than his fair share of battle. His left eye is bisected by a ragged scar, the eye itself is untouched. Also, his eyes are a bright crimson, surrounded by a ring of black. They seem to glow from a light coming from within. His hair is long, black, and straight, tied back in a simple ponytail with a black leather thong. He is wearing what was once a black trench-coat, but has obviously seen better days, both of the sleeves are gone, and the edges are ragged. On his left arm he is wearing a black gauntlet, the finger portions of which end in a razor sharp claw, the back of the gauntlet has small spikes pointing towards the fingers, clearly designed for tearing. His right arm however, is chrome since it is a highly advanced prosthetic, the hand and lower arm portion look the same as the gauntlet on the opposite hand, right down to the color. The movements of the arm are quick and precise, practiced, and nigh flawless even by the standards of a trained person with a fully functional, undamaged arm. The long, loose-fitting leather pants tucked into black boots hide what is most likely a prosthetic leg, since he stood with a slight lean. Running diagonally across his back are two katanas, the hilt of which can be seen poking over each of his shoulders. He also has two additional katanas hanging behind him off of his hip. Also, there is a fifth katana resting horizontally at the small of his back. Lastly, resting at the right side of his hip is a simple chain with a weighted end, and resting at his other hip are three small crimson globules.

"Thank you, headmaster." I say as I stand. Turning to the crowd, "I am Beriath, Professor of Non-Magical Combat. NMC, as it has become commonly referred to as by the other professors."

"Thank you professor, for your... uh, rousing introduction. After the successful resurrection of Lord Voldemort..." The headmaster says, continuing unperturbed by the gasps of shock and fear at the Dark Lord's name, "...it has become readily apparent that magical defense and offense may not always be adequate."

"Bullocks!" A blond in his late-teens/early twenties shouts from Slytherin table.

"Perhaps, headmaster, we may start the demonstration early?" I ask quietly from my seat.

"Very well." He mutters back to me. "Professor Beriath and I thought that that would be the general thought on the matter. Thus we have decided to give what he assures me is a minor demonstration." He says as a Hungarian Horntail enters the room and starts an attempt at incinerating everything it sees, naturally inducing a mild panic. "SILENCE!" The headmaster shouts. "We would not bring such a creature in here without taking every precaution. That dragon is contained in a shielding charm that only professor Beriath can enter or exit." The dragon seems to punctuate this remark by blasting the shield and leaving a thin film of ash on the interior.

"This dragon will die by my hand; no magic will be used." I say, quietly, but making sure my voice carries enough so that all the students could hear as I stand. Out of the center of my prosthetic hand a four-foot long spike emanates, which I use as a cane and limp over to the dragon.

As I pass by the Slytherin table I hear the same blonde boy talking to the others in the general area, "I got twenty galleons on the dragon."

Without a word, I enter the enclosed space containing the angry dragon. It stares at me; obviously curious as to why any man would approach without fear. After a second it decides to let its blood-thirst overwhelm it's curiosity. It's head strikes at me with maw gaping. With unexpected speed and agility, I jump to the side and use my "cane" to stab it under the jaw, stapling its mouth shut. With my other hand, I dig into the neck and tear out the spine at the base of the neck. After the body collapses, the pike emanating from my prosthetic arm retracts, and the severed head drops to the ground. "Before the year is out, I will teach you what it means to stand on your two feet. To be able to fend for yourself. 'I would rather stand on my own two feet in Hell, than be on my knees in Heaven.' You will be taught to live, and to die, by these words in my class." I walk back to my chair perfectly normally. As I pass the blonde in Slytherin, "You owe me twenty, boy. I expect my money at the beginning of my first class with you."

"Well done, Professor Beriath." the headmaster says with a stale applause. The others take up the applause after a few moments hesitation, clearly not certain as to whether or not they should give applause, or mourn the dragon, even if it did come with less than charitable intentions.

/

"So Harry, Ron, Ginny, what do you think of that new professor?" A young girl at the Gryffindor table asks. She, like the Slytherin boy, is in her late teens/early twenties, as are the two... boys she is talking to. "Harry" is of average height, has dark hair and is wearing wire-framed glasses. He also has startling green eyes. The other one, "Ron", has fiery red hair and is a little taller than Harry. "Ginny" is a little shorter than the others, but it is obvious from her appearance that she is related to Ron. She has fiery red hair like Ron's, save for the fact that it is long. The girl in question is about the same height as Harry, and has long curly brown hair. Unlike, Harry, Ron, and Ginny, who are all relatively pale, she is distinctly chestnut color. Almost as though she has some Hispanic in her bloodline, but has Caucasian hair and bone structure.

"I don't know, Mione. He can't have killed that Horntail barehanded without using magic. I think he's a fraud."

"I'm inclined to agree," Harry mutters, "but if he is, then why did Dumbledore hire him? I would think that Dumbledore could see through a sham like him easily."

"Well, he's definitely not being totally honest, but there's got to be something to him. 

Think about it; he can either form a very convincing illusion without anyone noticing; he can fool Dumbledore into thinking he's stronger than he really is; he really _is_ human and is as strong as he's making himself out to be, which seems unlikely, but not impossible; he really is human and has taken performance enhancing potions, which seems to be the most likely solution, but I would have thought that the other professors would have tested for something like that; or he isn't human and he's very good at making it look like he is." Ginny puts in.

"Yeah." Harry mutters, not really focusing on the conversation. "I really don't think it matters in the long run, though. There's something off about that man." Harry mutters as he rubs his forehead.

"You okay, mate?" Ron asks.

"It's your scar, isn't it?" Hermione asks.

"Yeah... but it doesn't hurt, like it does with Vol-"

"Don't." Ginny warns.

"Right... It almost feels... warm. Almost like I've a fever coming on, but it is only affecting the scar."

"Odd." Ron mutters.

"I don't think he's human." Harry says after a moment's hesitation.

"Okay... that was eerie." Ron breaks in.

"What?" Hermione asks.

"When Harry said he thought that the new professor wasn't human, he stared right at us and started grinning like a madman."

/

"Password?" The portrait of the fat lady asks as Harry, Ron and Hermione approach.

"Sha yi jing bai." Harry replies blandly.

"Strange password... Wonder what it means." Ron says as the portrait swings outward to reveal the entrance to the Gryffindor common room.

"It means, 'Kill one to warn one hundred'."

"Professor Beriath." Hermione says quietly as the three of them turn.

"Please, just Beriath. I despise formal titles. Harry, may I speak to you for a moment?"

"Of course."

"Alone please." I say plainly as I glance to Hermione and Ron.

Ron steps forward at that, "Anything you can say to Harry, you can say can say in front of us."

"Shut up, Ron. You're going to get us into trouble." Hermione mutters as she tries to drag him toward the common room.

"No." Ron states plainly.

"Go on, Ron. I'll be fine."

"Good. Fifteen points to Gryffindor."

"WHAT?" All three of them shout.

"You each earned five house points."

"Why?" Harry inquires.

"Simple. Ron for standing up to a person of unknown power for a friend. Such loyalty is a rare thing indeed. Hermione, for her prudence. It is not as rare as such fierce loyalty, but it is more apt to keep you alive. I respect that. And finally, your loyalty to your friends, Harry. I smell it on you Harry, you are not afraid of me, but you know that I am powerful in some way shape or 

form and am therefore, a threat. I could be here to kill you in a most horrible manner, yet you want your friends to leave to lower the risk to them. Don't worry though, I have no intention of harming you. I come bearing a gift." I say as I hand Harry a blackened staff. It is about four and a half feet in length and is devoid of any markings save for two parallel grooves near the top. "That Harry Potter is a Class 7ADO-DBZS."

"What?" Is the only eloquence to escape his mouth at that point.

"A Class 7ADO Demon's Bane Zatoichi Sword."

"A blade of legendary Demon's Bane?" Hermione asks doubtfully.

"None other. Unsheathe it Harry." He does so, "Good. Now, touch it to my flesh." He does so and within moments the flesh it touches blackens and blisters. A few of which pop before he pulls the blade away and blood flows freely.

"Oh my god, I'm sorry professor." Harry say as he sees the damage it has done.

"S'okay, Harry. I-" I begin as Hermione tentatively lays a finger against the blade, and nothing happens.

"You're a demon aren't you?"

"Indeed I am. How do you know of our kind?"

"Well-"

"Unimportant. More to the point, and far more relevant... _What _do you know of my kind? Also, what do you know about this blade? A correct answer could get you another ten points."

"As far as the blade goes... it is best known for being the only material object to harm a demon, it has been said that what would be considered a kill-blow against a human can, with that blade, also kill a demon. It also has all the standard abilities of a standard demon's blade, namely seeing and being able to interact with the 'Lines of Destruction', it has innate magical abilities... to burn, freeze, electrocute, et cetera. Strangely it is a form of magic that the ministry cannot sense."

"...And demons?"

"Demons are creatures of darkness, but..."

"But?"

"But they aren't evil. They're..." She says with a sigh, "I don't know." She finishes with a helpless shrug.

"Heh. You started off well enough. You are correct in that the demons are misunderstood. We are creatures of darkness, but we are not necessarily evil. We kill out of necessity. It is how we feed. We also feed on many other things. All of which are almost universally regarded as... evil. Death is just one form of food, then there is pain; sex; terror; blood; torture, which is a combination of pain and terror... and a little something _more_. There are other things of course, many of which are not polite to mention outside of demonic company. Also there are a few sub-classes of demon. There is the standard... which is little more than a beastial humanoid with ungodly physical ability and better than average intelligence. The beastial, which takes on the form of an animal and has speed, strength, and agility, but it is lacking in intelligence. The shadow demon is composed entirely of darkness and has no physical form, thus its defensive capabilities are through the roof, and it too excels in intelligence and physical ability. Then there are the hellspawn. The hellspawn are creatures thought to be truly from hell, hence the name. Needless to say, the hellspawn are the most powerful. They are by far the fastest, the strongest, the smartest, the most agile, the-"

"Yeah. We get the point." Ron says irritably.

"So, what type are you, Professor Beriath?" Harry asks.

"Just Beriath. I Harry," I say with a bow, "am a hellspawn. I am one of the most powerful. I will not mention my specific rank or real name since doing so would bring others of my kind down upon this school like the black plague. Unfortunately, most of the others are... not very careful when it comes to interaction with mortals. As such it would be best to avoid any contact with them."

"Why give _me_ this weapon."

"Because my sources tell me that Voldemort has infused himself with a demon's blood. As a result he has the strength and abilities of the demonic."

"Whose blood?" Harry asks, seeming to sense there is something that I am not telling him.

"The blood of he who created the demonic. The founder of my species, Blaschdow, the first origin. Voldemort is quickly becoming the demon god. I must stop him."

"Why do you care?" Ron asks.

"I don't. But who do you think he will turn to once he had taken over... or destroyed all of humanity. He will become the next demon god by becoming Blaschdow. If that happens he will, by rights, be master of the demonic. At that point there can only be one possibility: War. I, as the most powerful of my kind and the original destroyer of Blaschdow, will be under one banner. Voldemort-slash-Blaschdow will be under the other. Only the remaining origins and a few of the other elders will join me. Blaschdow will have all of the other demons. As such, he will have the advantage simply from sheer numbers. I and mine will be outnumbered ten-to-one, at least."

"Beriath?"

"Yes, Hermione?"

"Why are you telling all this to us?"

"Who do you think will be Voldemort's first targets? I think that you need to be aware of what you're up against. Ah, well, I've burdened you all enough for one night. I'll see you three in class tomorrow. G'night."

/

The late afternoon sun can be seen streaming into the west-facing classroom. It is more narrow than long, but huge all the same. Perhaps 20 feet by 40. Closest to the windows is a near empty space, all that is in that space is a large, plain, semi-transparent table, currently empty. Directly opposite the windowed wall and bearing slightly to the right is a simple stone archway to a small, barely illuminated hallway leading to the entrance to the class. My desk is on the left side of the classroom, facing the windows. Then there are eight large tables between my desk and the empty space, and four stools to a table. It is four thirty, and the last of the students are just entering.

"Excellent, now that everyone is here we may begin." I say as I stand, and begin to pace the classroom, " Considering that I am granted only half an hour to a class, I feel that it would be redundant to bother with proper introductions, which I regret. Suffice to say, I am Beriath. I know who all of you are. Today, due to the time constraints, I will only be laying out the rules, and giving a miniscule lecture. Tomorrow the real fun will begin. As I said I am Beriath. I do not like formal titles. In this class you will not be taught combat, you will live it. As such I believe that one and one's opponent should be on a first name basis. It is thus, that every time I hear a 'sir', or 'professor', or 'Mr.', or 'Mrs.', or any variation thereof, out of anyone's mouth, five 

house points will be lost. This applies both in and out of the class, so long as combat be involved. Next, this class will be very little in lectures, this class will be the application of practical experience. There will be blood, there will be pain, there may even be the occasional death. Also, power is for those willing to reach out and grab it, that is why once your weapons have been issued, you are free to challenge anyone at any time, _within these walls_. That is what the empty space behind you is for. Combat of a non-magical nature is strictly forbidden anywhere else on the premises and in Hogsmeade. Which brings me to the next two points: One; inside these walls, since the battle experience is to be real, there is no such thing as honor. As long as you are within this room, there is nothing wrong with stabbing your opponent in the back. Your enemies will not hesitate to kill you if they think they can get away with it, therefore, you MUST _NOT_ HESITATE to STRIKE FIRST! Also, once we introduce magic into the combat process, there is no such thing as an unforgivable curse. Imperitus curse, Cruciatus curse, the killing curse... if you are strong enough to use and control them, then you are allowed to use them. Two; Your weapons will be given to you tomorrow. I will have an assortment for you to choose from. I may or may not suggest what would be best for your specs, but you are free to choose otherwise, should I decide to do so. Finally, I am a demon. One of the oldest and most powerful. If I think you are being out of line, which is hard to pull off with me, but if it happens, I will not hesitate to strike either. I'll not be playing favorites either. I would slaughter a Gryffindor as quickly as I would a Slytherin. Having mentioned that, I will not hold it against anyone to fight outside of these walls, so long as you are not caught. I am here to teach you how to survive real combat, and to eliminate the opposition. It is because of this that I _do_ condone fighting outside these walls; combat, war, arguments, brawling, none are constrained by walls, and I am out to make your combat experience as real as is feasible. Now, are there any questions?"

"What kind of demon are you? I know of four types; the regular, beastial, shadow, and hellspawn. I also understand that when demons make their introduction they usually mention their type." This coming from a Ravenclaw with dark brown hair that hasn't seen a comb in a day or two.

"Correct. James Ruddige, yes?"

"Yeah."

"Five points to Ravenclaw. Oh, I forgot to mention, saying something or asking an intelligent question will also earn your house some points. Yes James, you are correct on all counts. I am a hellspawn demon. And since I'm sure that it'll dawn on you at some point in the near future; no, Beriath is not my real name. You should all know that the times will grow progressively more dark and dangerous since Voldemort resurrected. What you were not told, however is the means by which he did it. I won't go into detail, but he is now one quarter human, one quarter undead, and fifty percent demon. He is powerful, even by demon standards. As such, his power will draw out more of the demonic. Saying my real name aloud will bring them here in droves. If you are lucky, you'll never learn who I truly am."

"Why would that make us lucky?" Harry asks.

"Because by using an alias and abandoning my real name, my power has dropped dramatically. I will take on my real name again when I am forced to use more than forty percent of my power. Also take into consideration that that is enough power to destroy this entire universe. Put simply, if I must take on my true name again, the shit has, most definitely, hit the fan. Anything else?"

"What kinds of things are demons weak to?" Ron asks.

"Twenty points to Gryffindor. That, Ron, is one of the most vital questions to ask. 

Knowing an enemy's weakness can turn the tide in any battle. As a matter of fact, there is a demon hunter, one Kain, who started off as a simple muggle human. He is the reason why demons are one the brink of extinction. And he did it simply by knowing our weaknesses. The weakness of the standard demon is bright lights, loud noises, other... predators. Namely beings of greater power... so other demons in general. Beastial demons are weak to pretty much the same. Shadow demons are weak to light, and the hellspawn weaknesses vary. You see, in the case of the demonic, our weakness is what we fear. Since the hellspawn have human intelligence, and greater, we have human fears. Unfortunately for others, since we _do_ have human intelligence, we are able to confront and overcome those fears. Many of the older hellspawns have no weaknesses to exploit."

"As I understand it, demons can track one another by their power emissions. As long as you have met the demon before. You've already told us that you killed this... Blaschdow, before, so why can you not find him and kill him? From what you've already told us, You-Know-Who is not up to full power yet, so why don't you eliminate the threat while you easily can?"

With a sigh, "Y'know, were it not for the fact that I am unwilling to mention my real name for pretty much the same reasons, I would take a few points off for referring to Voldemort as You-Know-Who. Let me make one thing clear, Voldemort is not powerful enough for saying his name to have any effect, at least at this point. As to the why, someone more powerful than him is masking his presence. Also, there is a prophecy concerning Voldemort. It basically states that the only person capable of truly killing Voldemort is Harry Potter. Which is why I gave you that sword, Harry, and it is also the reason this class was formed in the first place."

"Prophecy? What prophecy?" Harry asks.

"I really shouldn't tell you..."

"But?"

"But I believe in being honest. The prophecy basically states that in order for you to truly kill Voldemort, you must die as well."

"YES!" Malfoy shouts with honest glee.

"Hmph! You are not in a place to talk, Malfoy. Potter has been responsible for winning Gryffindor the house cup on at least one occasion. He has faced a Basilisk, and won. He has exposed the true identity of Voldemort, he has faced Voldemort on at least four occasions and live to tell about it. He has won the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and so on. What noteworthy things have _you _done?"

"I killed a demon."

"Oh? Is that so? I find that hard to believe. Who?"

"You." He says as he stands and draws his wand.

"HA! You? A mere mortal? Kill me? Impossible! However, if you still wish to try, be my guest."

"_Stup_-"

"Itami no Eien." I say quietly as I disappear in a torrent of green flame and reappear in the same fashion just behind Draco Malfoy and jab a long thin needle into his spine at the base of the skull. He disappears in black flames but his screams of agony linger on. "While this class is based on non-magical combat, I will be teaching you to integrate magic into it. That was basically the Japanese version of the cruciatus curse on steroids, with the needle acting as a medium. When using a weapon as a medium the effect of the spell is magnified ten-fold, minimum. Also weaved into the needle is a transport to the hospital wing. Finally, Neville, I apologize that you had to see that... I know that you are particularly sensitive to suffering of that 

nature."

"Any more questions... or unnecessary comments? Please do not hesitate to ask any questions. Worst case scenario, nothing'll happen. Now, any questions?" After a few second pause, "Well, alright, if that be the case, class dismissed." As the students begin to stand and walk out, "Oh, and don't forget to try and pick a weapon you would like to work with, you'll be getting them tomorrow."

/

Three solid knocks on the door that lead to the short hallway going to my classroom is all that precedes and angry potions master from storming into the room. I am at the back of the room arranging weapons on a no longer transparent table.

"HOW DARE YOU ATTACK ONE OF MY STUDENTS IN SUCH A FASHION!" He yells as stops about ten feet from me, wand already out.

"Good to see you, too, professor." I begin sarcastically, "You forget, Snape, Draco is one of my students as well. As such, I will... educate him as I see fit."

"Well see about that. Dumbledore knows what you've done and wants to speak with you... now. Lucius will also undoubtedly be there. If Dumbledore doesn't outright sack you, I'm sure Lucius will see to it that it happens."

"And?"

"And!? You could end up in Azkaban for what you did! And you're unworried?"

"Of course not. Azkaban was made to hold wizards and witches. Dementors feed on the souls of the prisoners. I am not a witch or wizard, nor do I have a soul for the Dementors to feed on. Besides, I can level this school with minimal effort, just as I could do the same to Azkaban. They'll not sack me for fear of what I might do in retaliation. And as for you... why do have your wand out? Do you wish to challenge me? Or are you afraid that I might kill the messenger. If you wish to challenge me, say the words so we may begin. If you do not, put up your wand, approaching a demon with weapon drawn is almost multi-versally taken as a direct challenge. By rights, I should have taken off your head the moment you set foot within this room."

Putting up the wand, "Dumbledore's office, now."

"Better. You'd best stop stressing, Snape. You'll have a stroke if you don't learn to relax." I say quietly as I leave the room.

/

As Snape had predicted, Lucius was, in fact awaiting my arrival, along with Dumbledore. "Dumbledore... Luscious." I say in acknowledgement as I enter the office.

"Luscious?" the elder Malfoy asks, turning red in the face.

"Ah, Master Beriath, thank you for coming."

"Can the formalities, Dumbledore. I am very busy. What do you want?"

"I understand you saw fit to punish Mr. Malfoy's son."

"I did."

"Why?"

"Because he had a big ego. I thought it in his best interest to beat out the excess. Also, he challenged me."

"But to such an extreme?"

"What I did to him was relatively minor."

"MINOR?!" Lucius shouts, "You broke his fucking mind!"

"Yes, minor. As a Deatheater, I am sure that you are familiar with the effects of the Crucaitus curse. You should be grateful that his mind broke. The pain caused by Itami no Eien is ten times worse than that of the Cruciatus curse. Then there is the fact that I used a needle as a medium for delivering the spell, thus the pain was magnified an additional ten-fold. His mind, it will heal itself, in time."

"You-injured-my-SON! _AND_-"

"And I hope Madame Pomfrey doesn't heal him too quickly. Believe me, a hefty dose of reality will do your boy a lot of good. You sound like you could use a nice dose of Beriath brand reality yourself."

"Clam yourself, Beriath." Dumbledore begins quietly, "Now, I'm sure some punishment was in order. However, what you did was far too extreme to go unpunished."

"Hmph. Y'know, it's funny. 'Punishment' implies authority over the one being punished. More importantly, in order to have true authority, one must be more powerful than those you have 'authority' over. You get my point?"

"I get your point. You are still to be replaced."

"Not going to happen, I'm afraid."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You will never find a weapons master as qualified as I am. You may select a few _potential_ replacements. I will challenge them. One on one. If they are weak they will be killed. The strong will be exiled. Those that are actually a challenge will be kept on as assistants."

With a sigh, "Fine... will you at least swear to me that you'll never again take punishment to such an extreme?"

"I swear... as long as the person in question doesn't deserve it."

"I suppose that that's the best I can expect from you."

"Indeed."

"THAT IS UNACCEPTABLE!!"

"You wish to challenge me, then?"

"No... Shame me as it does to say it, but I'd not win."

"Wise of you. As a demon, it is my right to kill any who challenge me... _like your son_, and I can assure you that if you survived, it would not be out of mercy or kindness on my part. Now, if you will excuse me, I have work that must be done before my next class." I say quietly as I turn and leave.

"Well?" Lucius asks, turning to Dumbledore.

"Well what, Lucius?" Is the only response.

"What are you going to do about him."

"What do you expect me to do? I have done everything I am able to do, within my power. He is far too powerful to be trifled with. Also, he spoke only the truth. Draco's punishment, severe as it was, could have been far worse."

"Then why did you hire him? A person so powerful that even you cannot control him. You didn't even bother trying discipline him. How could anyone who trusts in muggle methods of combat be powerful? So powerful that even you must bow to him."

"If you consider him so weak, then why did you not accept his challenge?"

"Because I have heard that he is a demon, even he referred to himself as one. If he is powerful enough for even you to fear, then it must be true."

"Then why doubt at all?"

"Because he does not use magic."

_**Not using magic is very different from not being **__**able**__** to, Lucius.**_ A voice says, seeming to emanate from the very walls.

"As to why I hired him," Dumbledore continues, "Two reasons: One; Only two persons were able to meet the criteria of the job, and of the two he was the better. Two; I owe him my life."

"That's not reason enough to let this travesty go unpunished."

"It isn't?" Dumbledore asks owlishly, "If you wish to take some action on your own, by all means, do so. However, the school will not be held responsible for your actions... and more importantly, his. Your son will survive, uncomfortably for a while albeit, but he _will_ recover. Beriath is not one to take challenges lightly. Not only would he humiliate and then kill you... he'd probably then resurrect you, stripping you of any and all magical ability, making you live out the rest of your life as one of the muggles you so despise. For your own sake, leave him alone."


	2. Chapter 1: The New Professor

Disclamer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of J.K.Rowlings work, storylines, etc.

Chapter 1: The New Professor

The next day Harry, Hermione, and Ron are the first to enter the class, "G'afternoon, Beriath." Hermione says as she enters the room. Ron and Harry just mutter their hellos, clearly in no mood for class.

"Oh? Hey, guys." Is my lack-luster reply as I barely glance up from my quote-unquote work. I am sitting at my desk, which has two new additions: A large TV, 32" plasma flat-screen; and a Playstation 3. I am rapt in playing Resistance: Fall of Man.

"Hey Beriath, what is that?" Ron asks, pointing to the TV and Playstation 3.

"What the TV," I begin by pointing to the large box-like object, "or the PS3?" I finish as I point to the smaller of the objects.

"Both." Is his surprisingly simple response.

Pointing to the smaller object, "That, Ron, is a Playstation 3, PS3 for short, and it is a muggle invention that rivals the importance of the wheel and fire."

"It's that important, huh?"

"Indeed."

"And the other thing?"

"A television, a.k.a. a TV. Which I suppose is the most important invention in the history of mankind. Which is really kind of surprising, since what is shown on TV is now pretty much all shit, but without it, the PS3 is totally useless." By this point the rest of the class has begun to arrive. Glancing down at my wristwatch, "Well, I suppose we should begin." I say as I stand. "Okay class, Since we only have half an hour, there will be absolutely no lecture and if we are lucky we may have enough time for one challenge, should any of you be so inclined. I do want to tell you three things. One: as of this moment you all have ten phantom points. Phantom points are points that will be added to your house total at the end of the year. You can use these for wagering on a challenge, be you spectator or challenger. The second thing is that there are three stipulations to the use of the phantom points: A; you must meet the wager of your opponent. B; you must have at least one point before the final exam. C; If you run out of points at any time, you fail the class, and thereby, the year. Finally: you will now be given your weapons, we will be going in order by last name. Depending on how you choose your weapon, _not_ what weapon you choose, you can earn up to fifteen house points. First are Balthazar and Black." Balthazar ("Call me Bal") chose a no dachi, Black chose a polearm. "Crabbe, Goyle." Crabbe chose a battleaxe, Goyle chose a broadsword. "Granger and ... _Hellsing?_ You wouldn't happen to be related to Sir Integra Hellsing would you?"

"I am." A boy who is clearly in his mid-teens says as he stands. He has mid-length black hair that is some-what spiky. He is pale and has crimson eyes. He clearly takes after his father. "I am the product of Integra and that freak Alucard."

"Is that so?" I ask as he grabs a rapier from the table. Hermione has yet to choose a weapon. "How much has your mother told you about Alucard?"

"Nothing aside from why both he and I are abominations."

"I think that we should talk, your father and I go way back. Meet me here after dinner, 

would you?"

"Sure." he says as Hermione finally decides upon a set of daggers and a whip, which earn her a few well intentioned catcalls and hoots.

"Shuddap, y'all. If anyone in here is going be making catcalls in this class it's going to be me. Jacobs, Lazcolz." A somewhat scandalized Jacobs chose a falchion, Lazcolz chose a spear. "Longbottom, Malfoy..." Neville chose a pair of clawed gauntlets, similar to the ones I have. While Neville was choosing his weapon, "Oh, dear, Malfoy's absent... fifty points from Slytherin." I say with a vindictive grin.

"WHAT!?" The three Slytherins cry in unison. Lazcolz takes it a step further, "He wouldn't have been absent if you hadn't broken his mind! It's not fair!"

"Really? Would you like to join your friend in the hospital wing? Life is far from fair, Lazcolz. You'd best remember that." He shuts his mouth, which was gaping like that of a fish out of water, with an audible snap. He just stares at me indignantly. I return the gesture with a grin that would have done a wolf justice. "Potter, Ruddige." Harry chose a set of bladed numchucks, which earned a questioning glance from me, and Ruddige chose a sword similar to the sword I gave Harry. "Spinnet, Weasley." Alicia chose a set of sais, Ron chose a staff. "Finally, Xandaar and Zalcon." Xandaar chose a chain flail, and Zalcon chose a standard katana.

"Okay, now that every one has their weapons, it is time to give out house points... and I must say that I am disappointed in each and every one of you. There is only one exception, Hermione. Ten points to Gryffindor. Now, I will give one of you a chance to redeem yourself and earn five house points. Can any of you tell me what she did differently?"

"She did like all high-school muggles and gave teacher a blow-job." Lazcolz shouts.

"Okay. One; if that were the case, it would get her a shit-load more than ten points. I'm not that cheap. Two; next fifty points for Slytherin are void. And detention with Filch, after you get out of the hospital wing. Oh, yes, dear child, don't think that you can do anything you want simply because you are screwed for the house cup this year. You see right now you are at negative seventy seven points... and you will continue to lose points and be screwed for the house cup until your debt be paid. Now where was I? Ah, yes, I was about to destroy your life." I say as I dash over to him, lift him by the throat and mutter, "Jigokuhi no Zenmetsu. (Annihilating Hellfire)" In less than a second, Lazcolz is bathed in green flame and falls to the floor as a formless lump of flesh. Just as he begins to scream, he disappears in a blinding flash of light. "For the insult, Hermione, you may determine his final punishment."

"Okay." She mutters barely audibly, but putting up a strong front nonetheless.

"Now, can anyone give me an answer that _won't_ land them in the hospital wing?"

"She took her time selecting a weapon."

"Correct Ruddige. Five to Ravenclaw. One thing you must all learn is that all weapons are equal. Let's compare swords and sais, for example. Swords have greater reach, strength, and blocking range; whereas sais have more agility, accuracy, and can block _easier_ than swords. There is only one weapon that is better than all the rest, and that is yourself. The problem is that in order for your body to become the perfect weapon, it requires centuries of training, _if you're obscenely lucky __and__ talented_. Millions, if your lucky. Typically, it takes billions of years. Now, we _do_ have a few minutes left, so does anyone wish to make a challenge?"

"Goyle and I want to challenge Granger." Crabbe says as he stands.

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

"I see. You will have an advantage then. By rights Hermione can select a partner in 

battle, will you accept? Bear in mind that once a partner has been selected, the challenge will be considered issued and it will be too late to back down. Do you realize that?"

"Yes."

"Okay, how many points will you wager?"

"Three."

"Fair enough. I offer to act as Hermione's second in this battle. Now, most importantly, will you accept their challenge Hermione?"

With a grin that seems unsuited to her normally mild nature, "I will."

"Good." I say as I stand and with blinding speed throw a needle into Goyle's throat. "The rest is up to you Hermione."

Hermione stands and moves to center of the room and waits there for Crabbe. Crabbe after a few moments of hesitation moves to stand in front of her. With a gesture of the hand, she indicates that he can proceed to the battle arena first. After a slight frown, Crabbe does so, and ends up with a slit throat. "No honor, remember Crabbe?"

A stale applause is all that breaks the silence and shock caused by Hermione's unexpected ruthlessness. "Congratulations, Hermione, you are up to sixteen phantom points, which will hereafter be called PP. Crabbe and Goyle are both down to seven. I must say, that I am surprised though."

"Well, you did say that there was no such thing as honor in combat, and Crabbe is one of the people that I would expect to stab me in the back."

"Very good, and very true." I say as I walk over and place my and over the gaping wound in Crabbe's throat, and heal it. After a few moments he regains consciousness. I then go and remove the needle in Goyle's throat, and say to the apparently, but obviously not dead body, "The needle penetrated your spine, thus paralyzing you. You will heal within an hour or so. Now, then, class dismissed." As the class was leaving, "...'Mione?"

"Yes?"

"Can I speak with you for a moment?"

"Sure." She says as she walks up to my desk, Harry and Ron are not far behind. "Hermione, not you two."

"It's okay, guys, thanks though."

After Harry and Ron are out of the room, "You are strong. Stronger than you appear."

"What makes you say that?"

"You should know that you cannot hide your true emotions from a demon. I can smell, hear, even see and taste your rage. You are more pissed than you let on, you are excused from your potions class. Snape will certainly not help your situation."

"Can I at least get my assignments?"

"If you wish. I'll drop by and have Harry pick them up for you. You need stress relief. Relax. I will take care of everything. I can't believe that you want your assignments, though."

"I don't want to fall behind."

"Very well. However, I'll see to it that this assignment will not be held against you should you decide not to do it."

"You do realize that you are speaking for another professor, right?"

"Certainly, I do. Also, you may determine his final punishment. I'll come up to the common room sometime tonight. I'll bring dinner."

"Okay. Thanks, Beriath."

"No problem."

/

As it was, Hermione got over the slur shockingly quickly. By the time dinner rolled around, she was almost completely back to normal. She had also decided that Lazcolz's punishment would be to permanently rob him of all magical ability and send him home... for good. That is, once he was able to move again. As such, since Mione was the root of that which eliminated him as a student, all of his PP went to her. Later that evening, my thoughts are interrupted by two firm knocks on the door. The acoustics of the room are shocking, "Enter."

"You wished to see me, Beriath?"

"Ah, Tepes. I know that Integra would try to keep you from meeting your father, what I want to know is; has she been successful, thus far?"

"She tries, but no. I speak to my father almost every night."

"Good... or bad. How dark is your soul?"

"Pardon?"

"Your soul's color. I for example am primarily black but have a little crimson and blue in there as well. Close your eyes, and see yourself, if you look close enough, you will see a figure standing over you. That figure will have the shape of and color of your soul. Now, what do you see?"

"I see something amorphous. The head though looks like a malformed dog."

"And the color?"

"Red and black in about 50-50, but there's a touch of violet in there too."

"I see. Then you probably don't see Alucard as the abomination your mother claims he is, correct?"

"How'd you know?"

"Because when you become powerful enough, you will be able to see another's soul on your own. Do you know what the colors mean?"

"No."

"Well first, let me give you my specific specs. I am 65 black, 20 crimson, and 15 blue. Now each color means a different thing, and certain combinations can lead you to make certain assumptions about people without much chance for being wrong. Oh, by the way, you are 48 black, 44 crimson, and 8 violet. Now then, black is general darkness. It doesn't signify anything specifically, it signifies an augmentation of some of the other colors, in one direction or the other. Those that are high in the black element, are usually very powerful and maintain control over all else. Typically. Crimson is blood-thirst. The more red, the more violent the person. Usually, people have less than 5 crimson. Just to throw things into perspective. Also, black gives a certain degree of control over the blood thirst, and also serves to turn the crimson in a person into physical ability. Violet is control, black augments it. As a side note, if crimson is the most abundant color in one's soul, that soul would be insane and must be destroyed. Blue is intelligence. Cold calculation. Being able to manipulate... being able to do what is considered to be evil with little or no guilt, again, black augments it. In the typical human, blue is maybe 2 or 3 percent... Of course, humans have perhaps a tenth of the soul that you or I would. White serves as the opposite of black. And it does the same thing. Yellow signifies cowardice, and although that sounds bad, it ensures that the person will live longer. In battle they are weak, and would just as soon run like hell, but they are almost always accompanied by a high intelligence factor. As such, they make most excellent generals and politicians. White augments yellow, and in this case blue as well. Green is jealousy, they are normally accompanied by a smidgeon of crimson. 

For some reason, white serves to augment green. Humans, especially, most always have a little green in them. So what can you tell me about me?"

"You said that you are 65-20-15 black, crimson, blue, right?"

"Yes."

"You are violent, but you are very controlled. You release it when you need it and no more. You are deceptively intelligent. You have the intelligence to call on should you need it, but you prefer to fight on instinct."

"You see? It's actually quite easy. All you need is to know the specs of a soul and have a little deductive reasoning. Let me show you: You are very violent, but you have exceptional control over your rage. You feel like killing a person for a minor insult, but you are always able to squelch it and act accordingly. You are strong, physically. You can pick up an ant without hurting it, or you could put your fist through a bank vault. You have surgical precision when it comes to your obscene strength. The violet in you serves to allow you to regain control after going into a rage. Which is rare, I'll bet. So?"

"Correct, on all counts."

"Well, as far as your mother is concerned, just don't let her get to you. She's just being a bitch because vampirism is against God, quote-unquote. I can tell you for a fact that that is impossible. The one the mortals called God, was killed about seven centuries ago... by me. Also, as a vamp-human hybrid, you have latent abilities that should be awakened. Now, if you want that, I could have a vampire by the name of Incognito come down and teach you how to awaken, use, and control those abilities. Do you want that?"

"...Sure."

"Good. I'll arrange for Incognito to come down immediately."

"Why does that name sound so familiar?"

"It was your father's greatest challenge. It was the only battle that forced him to fully unleash his power. I would arrange for him to come himself, but I think that would arouse Integra's suspicions. So, I am forced to go with the next best option. I'll arrange with Dumbledore some allocated time for building up your latent abilities. Let's see, dinner is from 6:30 to 7:30... how long do you normally take to eat?"

"Half hour, at most."

"Okay so how does 7:15 to 8 o'clock sound, in here?"

"That's fine."

"Good. However, I would not go so far as to say that he'll grant you that, so let's say 4 o'clock to 8 o'clock on Saturday and Sunday as an alternative?"

"That's fine also, but what about dinner?"

"Oh, I can see to it that that's provided."

"Thanks, Beriath."

"No problem. I-" I begin, but am cut off by a sharp knocking on my door. "Now who the hell could that be?" I ask myself before shouting, "Enter!"

"Ah, Beriath, here you are. I've been looking for you."

"I can imagine. What do you want Dumbledore?"

"I would like to introduce you to your replacement."

"REPLACEMENT!?" Tepes shouts, "They're going to replace you?"

"Hmph!" I grunt, "They wish to try."

"Why?"

"Malfoy. Well, where is he Dumbledore?"

"He's outside."

"Well? Send him in."

"I would have, however the one condition for taking the job was that he wanted to meet you before the challenge. He said that he wanted to quote: '...confirm my suspicions. If he is who I suspect, then I will try for the job simply for the opportunity to challenge him.' end quote. He also said that if I do not prepare you, then you'd be likely to try and kill him here and now. I am to get your word of honor that you'll not attack him before a time is decided upon."

"I see. He will have my word provided he does the same."

"Okay, I'll be back in just a moment."

Dumbledore returns in less than a minute, with a man at his back. The man is tall. About six-five. Although, his spiked red hair adds about an inch to his total height. He is wearing a black armored vest under a, of all things, green leather trench-coat. He is wearing black loose-fitting leather pants, tucked into black boots. "Kain. I had expected as much. I take it that Dumbledore has told you of my... stipulation?"

"About the challenge?"

"Yes."

"Yes."

"Good."

"Good."

"Yes... well, perhaps we should save the use of monosyllabic expressions of arrogance until one of us has one won, hmm?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Excellent. Tomorrow at noon, here. Dumbledore, I suppose it's not too much to ask to delay lunch half-an hour?"

"Not at all."

"Good."

"Until tomorrow, Kain."

"And you as well, Ca-"

"STOP! Please, do not say my name. I am trying to remain incognito. You know well what'll happen if my name is said aloud, correct?"

"Certainly. What is your alias for the time being, then?"

"Beriath."

"Well enough then... Beriath." Kain says as he turns and walks out the door.

"You know him?"

"Yes."

"You seem like friends, I'm sorry for making this awkward for you."

"Ha! Friends? No, Dumbledore, we are not friends. He is a demon hunter. He is nigh solely responsible for the extinction of my kind."

"You do not seem to hate him though."

"Indeed, I do not. He started hunting demons as a mortal, and he won. He managed to kill many of us as little more than a human. I hold him in high regard. Also, we've worked together before. He has been the source of my victory on more than one occasion. As such, I can hold no real contempt for him anymore. I respect him, but do not like him."

"I see." Is all Dumbledore says as he leaves the room.

"What can you tell me about Kain, Tepes?"

"It's wrong."

"Be that as it may, tell me."

"40 crimson, 30 dark, 24 violet, and 6 blue. But that's impossible. Crimson is the most powerful element in him. He should be mad, totally uncontrollable... Shouldn't he?"

"In this instance, no. Remember that dark augments violet; control."

"But you also said that it augments crimson, doesn't it?"

"Perceptive of you... Yes, but in a different way. Dark and crimson increases physical ability, not the blood-thirst. Dark and violet increases the control. You were correct. However, with the combinations that lie within him, you could just as accurately say that he is 40-54-36 crimson, violet, blue. Just as you could say that I am 85-80 crimson, blue."

"Well, that explains that, but-"

"You saw a shadow of his other souls, didn't you?"

"What?"

"Kain is... special. He has four souls, not one. The form you saw is his demon soul, which he gained by surviving one of my more powerful techniques. The soul of a werewolf. Not one of the gay stick-figure werewolves like professor Lupin is. He is one of the original werewolves, he is one of the elders. Then there is his efreet, fire-elemental, form. Which is his own creation by using the demon-fire of the demon soul. And finally, there is his dragon soul. I have no info on that. He's had that for as long as I've known him, but I've no clue how he came about it. Nor, for that matter, it's abilities. Well... I suppose that that's enough for tonight. Perhaps, you'd better head back to the dorm."

"Of course."

"G'night."

"G'night, Beriath."

/

Early the next morning.

"Right, now, no time for dilly-dallying." a middle-aged to old man say as he drags a large trunk through the door. His hair is thin and grizzled, his face is a roadmap of lines and a few scars, at least one of his legs is prosthetic, and his left eye is a prosthetic as well.

"Need a hand, Alastor?"

"Ca-... Beriath? What do you want?"

"I've no classes to teach this morning and I'd like to see what the other professors are teaching. Have you any problems with that?"

"None. No, I don't need a hand."

"Well enough then."

"Now, then," Moody begins as he drops the trunk unceremoniously once reaching the back of the room, "in that trunk is a Boggart. I'm sure that anyone who was in Lupin's class a few years ago will be quite familiar with them."

"Uh, professor, why are we doing this again?" Harry asks.

"Because, Harry, Lupin merely told you how to neutralize a Boggart. Unless you run into a Boggart alone, it can feed off another's fear and still attack. I will teach you to kill it. As it is, I am glad that Dumbledore finally started a NMC class. I've been petitioning him to do so for nearly twenty years. You see the Boggart is highly resistant to magic. Even the killing curse will not effect it. In spite of their spectral nature, only physical attacks, or physically based magic will affect it. Unfortunately, European magic has very little in the way of physical spells. You'd be better off using Asian magic. Asian magic is more balanced between the mystical and the 

physical, and is, in the long run, far more practical to learn. American magic is relatively undeveloped, but what magic they do have is primarily physical. The best way to kill a Boggart is with Shoushu no Eien, Eterenity's Call. Shoushu no Eien is basically the Asian version of the killing curse, until recently the ministry could not detect Asian, or for that matter, American, magic. As such, it was not an unforgivable curse... it still isn't."

"There are, however, certain restrictions. If used against anything other than a Boggart, it'll still land you a one-way ticket to Azkaban. Where you will spend the rest of your lives living in solitary confinement. Because you see, Asian magic does not rely on a wand. The wand only serves to magnify magic. As such Shoushu no Eien can be used effectively against dementors as well. Although, it is not as effective as a sufficiently powerful patronus." I put in.

"True. So, Beriath, you are proficient with Asian magic, would you demonstrate the Shoushu no Eien?"

"Sure." I say as the all too familiar pike comes out of my prosthetic hand. "Whenever you are ready, Moody."

Without a word, Moody, just points his wand at the trunk, which shoots open and a being steps out. It has the general shape of a man, but is covered in flames.

I give it no time to react, I merely charge and drive the metal spike under the chin. "Shoushu no Eien." I mutter as two blades come out of the spike, rotate, and cut the Boggart's head off at the mouth and at the top of the skull. "You see, Shoushu no Eien works by making the Boggart a ... mortal, for lack of a better term. It also works by reading the mind of the caster and kills in a way that he or she would find most effective. The problem is that to cast Shoushu no Eien, one _must_ use a weapon as a medium."

/

Noon, my classroom...

"Good day, everyone." I say as I enter my classroom. "I expect that you shall learn quite a bit about combat, which is why we are having a combined NMC class today. Feel free to make bets on the match today. Money or PP, makes no difference to me." Turning to Kain, "Since this is Non-Magical Combat Kain, I would suggest that neither of us use magic. Only physical abilities."

"You would be giving me a major advantage then, also, there are no restrictions in real combat."

"You are right Kain... especially since I will be teaching how to integrate magic into combat. Very well, I will use one spell... and only one. You may as well, Kain."

"Fair enough."

"Then let it begin." I say as Kain charges me. Shifting to his wolf form in the process. Just as his claws sweep around to slice my mid-drift I flip over him and grab the underside of his muzzle, forcing him to land on his backside. He is on his feet again before I even land. Just as my feet are about to touch the ground Kain gets me with a flying tackle, the sheer momentum of which sends us both flying into the southern wall. "You are faster than I remember Kain. It wasn't that long ago that making you land flat on your back in wolf form would have led to a kill blow."

"Just as you have gotten stronger. Your spine would have been shattered by a hit like this a few years back."

"Indeed." I say as an all too familiar spike comes out of my right hand and I impale Kain through the side, right where his heart should be.

"I- I don't remember that." Kain says, spitting up blood.

"As well you shouldn't-" I begin as Kain's right hand digs into the side of my chest, just below the ribs, "Ungh... It is a new addition, less than a decade old."

"Indeed? Well, I suppose it is irrelevant now."

"I suppose so. You've not won yet though. Kagami Sugata." I mutter as Kain crushes my heart. "Hmph. You may have incapacitated me, Kain, but unless your regenerative capabilities have increased dramatically, you are doomed to death. Kagami Sugata, mirror image, you just crushed your heart as well as my own." I say as I black out.

/

When I regain consciousness, I am lying in a bed with white sheets. To my left is Malfoy, either asleep or unconscious. I would say the latter, but I don't think Lucius would stop howling a Madame Pomfrey if that were the case. To my right are windows, through which the late afternoon sun is streaming. With a groan, I toss the sheets aside and get up. Looking out the window, I notice Hagrid holding another class with his Hippogriffs. After a few moments he turns and waves at me. I merely nod and turn to what initially attracted me to the site. Kain, lying in bed, and still unconscious. With a scowl, I remove a needle hidden in my prosthetic forearm, "Bakuhatsubutsu Hari. At least you will die with honor Kain. Explosive Needle." I say as I swing my arm in a arc about to let fly with the needle, when-

"STOP!"

"Madame Pomefrey. Why did you stop me? As a demon, I am within my rights to kill a challenger."

"That's true-" She begins, and I pull my arm back again for another throw, "-BUT, you are a Hogwarts professor _first_."

"Hmph. You'd like to believe that, wouldn't you?" I say as I place the needle back in its sheathe in my arm, in spite of my tone, "However, I will spare him..."

"You should. You swore you would." Dumbledore says quietly as he enters the room.

"I swore that if the challenger was an actual challenge, I would take him on as an assistant. I did not have to reclaim my real name, that means I won with less than forty percent of my power."

"True, but you also swore that if the person was strong, you'd spare them and just exile them."

With a sigh, "Damn your observational skills Dumbledore. How long have I been out, anyway?"

"A little over a week. Soon after you and Kain went out of commission, a man showed up claiming to be your apprentice, Nagatsu. His skills seemed good enough so I let him take over until you recovered."

"I see. Well, once I get some food in me, I'll be quite ready to resume teaching."

"I'm afraid that won't be necessary. I've decided to cancel the class for the remainder of the semester. Since there was no clear winner-"

"There would have been had you and Pomfrey not stopped me a few seconds ago!"

"Be that as it may; The class will be cancelled."

"What is the meaning of this, Albus Dumbledore!? If you have a problem with my teaching methods, you should not have hired me in the first place. Just because I gave that Malfoy bastard a lesson well deserved, you are trying to strip away my rights and status. To try such with a demon is a death sentence and you know it."

"There was no clear winner. We doubted either of you would survive."

"Oh, bullshit. Know what, fine, if you feel that way and want to get rid of me, then I will call upon your honor debt to me."

"That debt was paid when I hired you, Beriath. Besides, you swore an oath that you'd not kill any professors or students."

"Oh, so now you try to screw me out of a debt that is to be paid. You spent nearly thirty years studying the demonic, you should know that refusing to pay a debt will nullify any and every oath sworn by a demon. If you will not pay what I am owed then I will **take** what is owed in the blood of your students!"

"Oh, very well. I'll not cancel the class, but you'd best not set another toe out of line, because I'll not rush to your defense. And if you do again to another student what you did to Lazcolz or Malfoy, you can be certain that the Ministry will hear of it."

"Hmph! Two things, Dumbledore: One, you should know well the first and most important rule of dealing with demons; '_Never_ threaten a demon. The result of doing so will... not be pleasant. Two; I do not need you to 'protect' me from the ministry. I am quite capable of taking care of myself."

/

About three hours later...

"What are you three doing here?" Madame Pomfrey asks as she enters the room.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron are all standing around an empty bed, all with a look of concern and/or consternation on their faces. "Oh," Hermione begins with a startled gasp. "We were wondering if we could see Beriath."

"Oh, he's no longer with us." Pomfrey say in an unusually chipper tone.

"You mean... he... left?" Harry asks quietly.

"Yup. About three hours ago."

"Oh... We- we understand." Harry mutters as Hermione walks stiffly out the door, tears streaming down her cheeks. Harry and Ron follow shortly after, with subdued expressions.

"What's wrong with them?" Pomfrey asks herself, "With the way they reacted, you'd think I just told them that Snape would be teaching all of their classes for the rest of their semester. ... Oh, well. Whatever."


	3. Chapter 2: Strange Relations

Disclamer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of J.K.Rowlings work, storylines, etc.

Chapter 2: Strange Relations

Dinner that night was delicious, and filling, as usual - but a disappointment nonetheless. The only three people that didn't appear were the very three I was hoping to see: Harry, Ron, and Hermione. I am sitting at the table reserved for the faculty, lost in contemplation.

"Something wrong, Beriath?" Hagrid grumbles in my ear, in what is obviously a failed attempt at a whisper.

"Nothing that can easily be explained, Hagrid. Forces that I like not are growing in strength. Soon the deluge will come."

"Oh? Well, with you-know-who being resurrected and all, I can't say I'm surprised. All we can do now is be prepared."

"Indeed. But it isn't Voldemort that's bothering me. As soon as he does anything against any I have sworn protection to, prophecy or no, I will destroy him. What worries me is the fact that I may be too late."

"What d'you mean?"

"You haven't noticed? Where are Harry, Hermione, and Ron?"

"Oh, them? They're in their dorm... seemed real depressed, they did. I wonder what got to them?"

"Hmmm. That may just be the sign I was looking for."

"Eh?"

"Depression, if used properly, is one of the more powerful weapons demons can call upon. If it _is_ Voldemort that is the cause of their depression, then that could be taken as an attack, which means that I can kill him. Once he attacks, he'll no longer be invisible to me."

"I still don't understand."

"Ah. I guess Dumbledore hasn't said much about exactly how he resurrected. Suffice to say that he bonded with an exceptionally powerful demon. The demon blood that now runs through his veins, effectively makes him invisible to me. That is... until he does something stupid."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. I think that I will excuse myself now and go check on Harry, Ron, and Hermione."

"He's gone... He's really gone." Ron mutters to no one in particular. While he is the only one to voice it, Harry has obviously come to the same conclusion. Neither of them seem to be willing to look up from the plush carpet. Which may be why they do not notice the figure crawling through the portal that the portrait of the fat lady blocks.

"Ungh, goddamnit... whose gone?" I ask as I stand erect.

"Be-Beriath!?" Harry asks as both his and Ron's head shoot up.

"None other. Why weren't you two or Hermione at dinner tonight, and who's gone?"

"You." Ron replies plainly.

"Yu? I never noticed any Orientals here."

With a sigh, Harry continues, "Not Yu, you. Y-o-u. As in Professor of the NMC class, Beriath."

"We thought you were dead!" Ron continues unnecessarily.

"Who or what the hell gave you that idea!?"

"Madame Pomfrey." Ron and Harry respond instantaneously.

"Whoa... M3."

"M3?" Harry inquires.

"Yeah, Mind Melding Moment... M3."

"Ah."

"Where is Hermione?"

"In her room, crying." Harry says. Ron just frowns.

"You three really got that depressed over my supposed demise?"

"Well, um..."

_sniff, sniff_ I'm touched." I say feigning tears. "C'mon you guys, I'm a fucking two-hundred and forty-seven trillion year old demon. I am more of an immortal than that crock Voldemort. I've survived complete vaporization before... granted I was sore as hell afterwards, but... Yee-ah, not a pleasant experience, that." After a sigh, "Ah, well, I just wanted to tell you that classes would be resumed as normal tomorrow. Give the message to everyone else, will ya?"

"Sure." Ron says.

"Hey, Beriath?"

"Yeah?"

"I think you should go see Hermione. She's been locked up in her room since your fight with Kain."

"But Harry, the stairs." Ron mutters.

"I know about them turning into a slide, Ron." I say as I begin my ascent.

"Hey! Why aren't they working?" Ron asks indignantly.

"Because I am not male."

"WHAT!?"

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not female either. Demons are sexless until a sex is needed, you get my drift? What you see, including the so-called demoness', is just a physical form based on our own preferences." I say as I disappear up the stairs.

Hermione's bed is easy to identify since it is the only one from which wracking sobs are emanating. What is truly odd is that no one else is there. "Hermione."

"Huh?" she mutters as she lifts her head. "Beriath!?"

"None other."

"Beriath!" She shouts as she takes me down with a flying tackle. Unfortunately for me... well, maybe fortunately... she is only wearing a very short, very revealing silk cerulean negligee. "It is you! It _is_ you!" She shouts as she give a rather sloppy kiss. One might imagine that a kiss from Fang might be cleaner... certainly more controlled.

"Jesus-fucking-Christ, why the hell am I so damned popular with you three?" I ask as I somewhat reluctantly push her off me (What? _You_ wouldn't be reluctant to do so!?) "Mione, this wasn't the first time I've had my heart crushed. Still, I suppose I should fill you three in on my full abilities. Why don't you, Harry, and Ron stick around after class tomorrow?"

"Okay, Beriath." She says turning red, finally seeming to realize the situation she put herself in. However, in spite of her embarrassment, she looked at me with an almost profound respect. She probably realizes that I could have taken advantage of her emotional state, and didn't.

"Ha, ha, don't be embarrassed, Mione... just be bare-assed."

"BERIATH!"

"Ha, ha. I'm just joking. But you must admit, you had it coming."

"Heh. I suppose I did, didn't I?"

"Yeah. Don't worry about it though, shit happens." I say as I start to take my leave, just as I get to the door, "Hermione?"

"Yes, Beriath?"

"I'm glad that you guys care about me so much, I really do. It's been a very long time since I had a real friend. ... Thank you. Extend my thanks to Harry and Ron as well, will ya?"

"Sure."

From the other side of the door Hermione hears me mutter, "Fuck... I need a cold shower... I wonder if I can get Kagome to come up here..."

/

The next day, in class...

"G'Afternoon class." I say as I storm into the room. "Okay we have only thirty minutes a day and we need to make up a missed week." I say as I walk between the desks to the small combat area in the back of the room. About halfway down, I stop dead in my tracks, "Oh, _you're_ back." I say as I stare at Draco. "Okay, put your weapons away for now... and Draco, stop fondling yours, or I'll chop it off."

Somehow, with as white as he is, he still manages to pale as he quickly puts his hands on his desk.

"Hmph. You are still an ass, but you are learning to take orders. Good. You may yet earn your house some points. Alright class, today'll be one of the few days that is strictly lecture. We may have time for one or two challenges afterward, though. Demons...

As I understand it, you all will not be taught about them until later in the year. Recent events, specifically my battle with Kain, prompted me to deliver this little lecture. Now, I know that I have referred to myself as 'demon' on more than one occasion. However, I think it is prudent that you know that I... my species... are not true demons. 'Demon' is merely a title ascribed to my species by you humans, one which we have grown fond of. We were originally called the Yharaxis. Which, literally translated, means 'of god' in an ancient and long dead tongue. The fact of the matter is that the multi-verse has it's own will, but no means of carrying it out. Thus, we, the Yharaxis, were created by the multi-verse sacrificing ten parts of itself to create beings that can affect it. We are... beneficial viruses for lack of a better term, that serve the will of all reality. Each of the ten Yharaxis was made by hyper-condensing five percent of the multi-verse's power. That means, people, that the ten Yharaxis are as powerful as all of reality. When one of the Yharaxis dies... truly dies, their power is divided among the remaining Yharaxis. I am the last of the Yharaxis. So, who can tell me what that implies?"

"That you are equal to all of reality, that you are the most powerful being in this and in any other universe." Hermione puts in, awe-struck.

"Correct, but only to an extent. Contrary to the monotheistic belief that there is one all-powerful, all-knowing God, there isn't. While there is something all-powerful and all-knowing, it is not an individual, it is the Amalgamation, otherwise known as the multi-verse. You must also consider that the multi-verse is unable to carry out it's own will, whereas I am. Thus I have the edge, which means that I am, not God, nor the gods, but something greater, and at the same time something less. I am not all powerful, nor omnipotent... granted, you'll have a hell of a time finding someone that can take me down, but I digress. Anyway, being the last of those able to carry out the will of the multi-verse, I am a true immortal. To put things more simplistically, the 

multi-verse is the brains of reality and I am the brawn. Now, here's a brain-teaser, the Yharaxis, even the halflings, cannot be killed by physical methods. Even the weakest of us can survive total vaporization, nor do we age, so how is it that I am one of the last of my kind?" ... "Figures. Fine, do any of you have any theories?"

"Well, I have one." Ruddige begins, "I assume that you are familiar with how to defend yourself against aggressive ghosts?"

"Correct. But never assume anything, Ruddige, people die when assumptions are made. Your phrasing said assumption as a question is the only thing that saved you from losing some points."

"Ah, sorry."

"S'alright. Continue."

"Well, when a ghost attacks it'll become a ghoul if you try to fight it, but if you just ignore it and thereby lose belief in it's power, it fades from existence. If the Yharaxis are essentially the creators of the reality we know then faith, of any kind, should aid in preserving your livelihood. But a dramatic loss of faith has occurred in the past few years. I imagine that this would weaken, if not outright kill your kind."

"Interesting." I begin non-committally, "Then how do you explain my existence and my ability to maintain my power?"

"Simple. All I implied was that your species needed to be believed in, I didn't say by who. I imagine that your ego and height of self-belief is what preserved both your continued existence and power."

"My... EGO!? You FUCKING BASTARD! One-hundred points..." I begin angrily, "..._to_ Ravenclaw." All that follows are one or two sharp inhales of air, and a stunned silence, "Haha. While it may be unpleasant to hear to most ears, it is _exactly_ the case. Congratulations, Ruddige, you just gave Ravenclaw a huge handicap over the other houses as far as the house cup goes. I look forward to watching your first challenge, Ruddige, if you as ruthless in combat as you are intelligent, the others are going to have to watch their backs around you. Now, there is one last thing that must be done before class is dismissed. Malfoy, pick a weapon." I finish as the table at the back of the room once again is covered in weapons. Without much hesitation he picks up a scythe. The pole portion is straight and about six feet long, and has a small spike at the bottom. The top of which is decorated with a human skull. The three foot long curved blade comes out of the open mouth of the skull. And although it can't be seen yet, I know that the pole splits about five feet from the bottom, and a five foot long chain links the two segments. "Damn..." I mutter quietly. "Any challenges?"

"I challenge Potter." Malfoy says predictably from near the table, which has since disappeared.

"I accept." Harry says with a small smirk, as he picks up his bladed numchucks.

"Don't Harry. Not with those. Use the sword I gave you."

"Why?"

"Because the weapons given out here are regular weapons. They have limited special abilities and are thus, unnamed... at least for now. That scythe is Shitai-Shuukaku. Body Harvest. It has special abilities, and you won't be able to touch Malfoy using anything but Shuukaku-Hito, the fact that Malfoy has the Shit-kak can only mean that he has been selected as one of Voldemorts lieutenants, just as the fact that you have the Kak-hit means you are one of my lieutenants. The Yharaxis are powerful healers, we can regenerate any limb, resurrect the recently dead, and even recreate a vaporized body and return the soul to it to make sort of a 

living-dead person. Among the Yharaxis, I am one of the more powerful healers, but if Malfoy killed you with that weapon, there will be no resurrection for you. Shitai-Shuukaku is shrouded in death magic, magic far superior to my healing abilities."

"Okay." Harry mutters as he sets his numchucks down and picks up a long, black velvet case and withdraws his sword.

"Ready, Potter?" Malfoy asks smugly.

"Ready."

With a small smirk, Malfoy charges Harry, "WAIT!"

"I was under the impression, Beriath, that you would not be interfering with our matches."

"Oh? And who told you that, Malfoy?"

"Lazcolz."

"Indeed. And you were told correct... to an extent. I'll not intervene with a match so long as the odds are not stacked against one or the other, in this instance, the odds are stacked against Harry, as such I shall even out those odds. Bankai: Okosu Rikugun, Shuukaku-Hito; Kuchiyose: Beriath. (Full Release: Rouse the Army, Soul Reaper; Summon: Beriath.) I say as a black viscous fluid flows from the blade of Harry's sword, which, within a matter of moments grows and solidifies into an exact clone of me. Which, without word or warning, unsheathes an exact copy of Shuukaku-Hito from the small of his back and stabs Malfoy in the upper right potion of his chest. It is doubtful that the blade touched his heart, but it certainly hit a lung, since Malfoy's breathing became labored and he started coughing up blood. "MEDIC!" I shout, and Madame Pomfrey appears in a torrent of black flames.

"Ungh! Dammit, Beriath! Again!?"

"What can I say? Malfoy's, ummm... accident prone. Ah well, class dismissed." As the students get up and begin to leave, "Harry, could I speak to you a moment?"

At that he turns and approaches silently, Ron follows a few moments later. "Yeah, Beriath, what's up?"

"I asked for Harry, not you Ron."

"I know, but there's something I want to ask you."

"sigh Fine. Harry, that weapon is special, even among the Demons' Blades. There are three commands for it. Shokei, Execute, which increases its basic statistics, speed, strength, and so on. Okosu Rikugun, Rouse the Army, which resurrects any and everyone killed by that blade. And finally, Eienka, immortalize, it does it exactly that. Remember those three commands, they are the key to using that blade effectively. Now then Ron, your question?"

"Uhh, Harry would you mind letting me talk to Beriath privately?"

"Sure, Ron. Huh? Wait a minute, you said that the second command, Okosu Rikugun, resurrected anyone killed by this blade... so how did it call upon you?" Harry asks.

"Good question. Upon discovering the abilities of that blade I used it to kill myself. Many of us had a mortal life, the template of which was used upon the creation of a Yharaxis. I was the third mortal selected as a template... It is a huge honor. That blade is a copy of the one that I killed myself with."

"Why did you kill yourself... if you don't mind my asking."

"Because I could. Tell me Harry if you were powerful and skilled enough to take out a whole army alone, just think of what two of yourself could do. At the time, I had a lot of people to protect, I died so that they would have a better chance at survival. That was the end of my mortality. My resurrective capabilities for some reason, failed me. But I was reborn, later, as a 

Yharaxis."

"Incredible. Thanks for answering, Beriath." Harry says as he turns and leaves.

Turning to Ron, "Well?"

"... Was she as hot as I think she was?"

"Ha! Haha! So she told you, huh?"

"Yeah. Was she?"

"_Oh, yeah._" Ron just groans and walks out in response, "Heh, poor bastard." After a moments hesitation, "I'll probably be dropping by the tower later tonight." I call after him.

/

Later in Gryffindor Tower...

"Hey, all." I mutter as I crawl through the hole that the portrait of the fat lady guards.

"Hey, Beriath." Came the lack-luster reply from Harry as he glances up, dazedly from the chess board. "Damn, Ron, you win again." Harry mutters as he tips his king.

"I _told_ you, boy, to move the goddamn knight!" This from the toppled king.

"Hah. So, Ron, you're a chess genius." I state more than ask.

"Seems that way. I just thought that my brothers and Dad didn't have any talent for the game, but no matter who I play, I've never lost a game."

"I figured as much. I imagine that you'd make a decent general some day. Where is Hermione?"

"Mione went up to the girls dormitory about an hour ago." Ron puts in blandly.

Harry elaborates, "When we asked her if she was staying for your visit she just blushed and muttered something about homework."

"She obviously likes you, and I don't mean as a teacher. You two make an... interesting couple." Ron continues resentfully.

"Perhaps, but there are two small problems. One: as far as the strangeness of the couple, I think that Snape and Fluffy have me and Hermione beat, hands down. Two: I wouldn't go so far as to call us a couple... though, truthfully, I wouldn't resent the idea." I reply simply.

"Snape and Fluffy... you're shitting me, right?" Ron asks, disbelievingly.

"I wish I were... What I saw last night will be giving me nightmares for a very, _very_ long time." I say as I shudder at the thought of it. "Still, I can't help but wonder what Hagrid and Voldemort would have to say about the relationship. I think Hagrid would throw a fit if he found out, but somehow, I doubt that Voldemort would care.

Ron and Harry just stare in disbelief, and after a few seconds pause, long enough for the disturbing information to sink in, they both shudder. "Ungh, disgusting." Harry mutters. Ron merely makes some gagging noises.

"Yeah, sickening isn't it? Still, at least now, you've something to blackmail Snape with." After a moments pause and a long sigh, "Harry, could I have a moment with Ron?"

"Yeah, sure." Harry says as he stands slowly and walks up the stairs to the boy's dormitory.

"Okay Ron, do you want Hermione?"

After a seconds hesitation, "...Yes."

"I figured as much. So do I. So, since we both want her, I suggest we let her choose. Now, I am going to start going all out to win her. I have more experience in winning hearts that you could ever imagine... While I hate to admit it, you have the benefit of her already loving you. The only thing that is keeping you from already having a meaningful relationship with her, beyond that of just normal friendship, is your own cowardice. I will give you seventy-two hours 

to ask Mione to the Yule Ball. I will start making moves of my own after that point."

"But... But what if she refuses?"

"Hah, if you ask, she'll not refuse. But I can also tell you, if you don't make a move, she's gonna move on. She's getting impatient, and I can't blame her. You need to understand that love... it's not an emotion. It is an entity of it's own, and just like any other living thing, if you ignore it, it dies and ends up rotting away. But, if you acknowledge it, and nurture it, it'll grow and flourish. All things do their utmost to survive, so if you let that part of her wither and die, she's gonna move on, to someone who won't. The fact that she went to the Ball with Krum last year is because she can feel that part of herself dying. The death of love... it is a long process, I'll grant, but she won't last forever. You get what I'm sayin'?"

"I don't know... You mean to say that if I don't acknowledge that she loves me, she'll look for love somewhere else? And how would you know something like that?"

With a sigh, "Incomplete, but that's the long and the short of it, yes. As to how I know... well, you learn a lot and experience first-hand most that any life has to offer in nearly two-hundred and fifty trillion years."

"Did I just hear you say that you are nearly two-hundred and fifty _trillion_?"

"Yes. Remember Ron, three days, that is the only leeway I will give you. It is a hard thing, I know, to pluck up your courage, but you must, because a coward is the last thing I can tolerate, and is always the first to die."

"I understand."

/

Three days later...

"Congratulations Balthazar. You are now up to twenty-seven PP. And Longbottom, I am sorry to lose you, but you have exhausted all of your points. Now then, I feel that this is an appropriate time to mention two things. First: this is not necessarily the end for Neville, if one of you values him enough, you are free to donate a few of your own points to him. But bear in mind that by doing so, he could become a great and useful ally, or he could stab you in the back and take all of your points. Will anyone donate?"

"I will."

"Ah, Hermione, thank you. You have twenty-two PP, how much will you give to Neville?"

"Seven."

"Very well. Mione, you now have fifteen and Longbottom has seven."

Neville, through the veil of blood, casts Hermione a sideways glance, "Thank you, Hermione."

"No problem, Neville."

"Now then, the second thing I wish to address is that I said on your first day that we would learn how to integrate magic into combat. However, I do not speak of casting spells with wand in one hand and weapon in the other; how many of you have noticed something odd about these weapons that you all carry?" Almost every hand in the room goes up, "Good. That is because these are soul blades. They already have magical properties, and abilities...

"But you told us when we selected our weapons that they were in no way magical." Ruddige puts in.

"This is true. To activate the abilities of these weapons, one must cast a spell to quote-unquote awaken these blades. When you know the spell, these weapons can become powerful tools of destruction... which is good, since your final exam will be a fight... against me." At that 

an outraged murmur took over the room, "Do not fret, I do not expect you win against me. Doing so would show talent beyond compare. You will be graded upon your skill with the weapon, your level of awakening; I know that you do not know what I am speaking of, that will be addressed in a few moments; bravery, ingenuity, and intelligence. The level of awakening I speak of is your magical proficiency with your weapon. When you each handle your weapon, I am sure most of you get a name. These are the names of your weapons, this is how to release stage one, Shikai. Stage two is Bankai, and stage three is Kajokai. These weapons are commonly called Zanpakutohs by the originating culture. Now I will tell you all the stage one command. Balthazar, your command is _Kubi o Haneru, Atama Ryoshi_;Decapitate, Head Hunter. Black, _Tsuranuku, Kaikiba_;Pierce, Great Fang. Crabbe, _Owari Sekai, Wabishisa_;End the World, Desolation. Goyle, _Kishisuru, Sonkeiken_;Knight, Honor Blade. Granger, your daggers are _Ugoki, Futagoken_ and your whip is _Chimori no Mai, Chimamire Hebi_; Move, Twin Blades and Dance of the Blood Forest, Bloody Serpent. Hellsing, _Tokeru, Yoganken_;Melt, Magma Blade. Jacobs, _Kirihansu, Kogoeru Kaze_;Sever, Freezing Wind. Longbottom, _Kogeki, Kuraikobushi_;Strike, Dark Fist. Malfoy, _Korosu, Shitai Shuukaku_;Kill, Body Harvest. Potter, _Tsukaikonasu, Kisoha_; Harness, Element Edge. Ruddige, _Ninarukichigai, Seishinbyo Kanjyaken_; Go Insane, Psychotic Blade. Spinnet, _Odoru, Santaiyou_;Dance, Three Suns. Weasley, _Sodateru, Inochi Ki_;Grow, Life Tree. Xandaar, _Bakuhatsu, Atama Ichigeki_; Explode, Head Smasher. Zalcon, _Hikkaku, Gintsume_;Scratch, Silver Claw. Now then, class dismissed."

With visible relief, Ron stands and quickly but unassumingly, heads for the door.

"Ron..."

"Damn." I hear him mutter as he approaches my desk, "Yes, Beriath?" He asks, quietly.

"What? You didn't think I'd forget, did ya?"

"No, but I had hoped."

"Heh, I guess that means you haven't asked her, huh?"

"No."

"Do so now, or I will."

"Mione?" Ron calls.

Noticing Ron's subdued expression, she quickly breaks off her conversation with Harry, Neville, and Hellsing of all people, and approaches, "Yes, Ron?"

"Hermione...uhh... " Ron stammers, "Umm... would you... uh, shit... um... cough... would you like... aw, goddamnit, never mind, Mione." Ron finishes as he storms off.

"_Baka_ (Idiot)." I mutter plainly.

"Beriath?"

"We're having a Yule Ball this year, and he wanted to ask you to go with him. I know that he has a problem with shyness, I was hoping that by forcing him to make a move that he might overcome his fear."

"Fear? Of what?"

"Rejection. I assume that you want to go with him?"

"Of course."

"I thought as much. Tell me, Mione, do you want to help teach him a lesson?"

"Depends on what kind of lesson. What did you have in mind?"

"I was just thinking of letting him think that you're going to the ball with me."

"Is it true?"

"What?"

"I heard from Harry that you like me, and want to go with me to the ball, is that true?"

With a sigh, "In a manner. Yes, I'd love to, but regardless of whether you wanted to or not, I'd not be able to be your date since I am one of the chaperones that night."

"I see."

"Having said that, don't worry about clothes or jewelry for the big event, I'll take care of that."

"Are you sure? Dress robes alone are quite expensive."

"Ha, no problem, I have enough money to, quite literally, buy all of Europe. Also, would you mind telling Harry, Ron, and Ginny, that I'll also be taking care of their stuff for the main event? ... actually, strike that, don't tell them."

With a small smile, "Sure, and thanks, Beriath."

"No problem, just answer me one question."

"Sure. What?"

"Would you have gone with me to the Ball, were I available and didn't tell you about Ron?"

"I don't know. I like you... a lot, and not as a teacher, but there is the age difference..."

"Hahaha, you have no idea."

"Well, how old could you possibly be?"

"How old do you think I am?"

"I wouldn't put you past thirty... but you look more like twenty, twenty-one... which would be acceptable, but the skills you've shown... you don't get those skills in twenty, or even thirty, years."

"In a manner. I stopped aging at twenty-two, but as far as how many years I've lived... you're not even close."

"Forty, then?"

"Higher."

"Fifty?"

"Keep going."

"Sixty!?"

I just point up.

"Seventy?!"

"More."

"Eighty?!"

"Higher, still."

"Ninety!?"

"More."

"A HUNDRED?!"

"Great, now multiply that two and a half times, and put twelve zeros behind it and you'll be close enough."

"Twelve zeros? That means that you're roughly... two-hundred and fifty TRILLION years old!?"

"Bingo."

"... ... ... That's some age difference. But like you said, you tried to force his hand, and not in any unreasonable manner... but I've always liked Ron. But then... I am just as at fault as he is, since I could have said something."

"While that may be true, and it may be sexist, but it is still a given that nobody expects the female to ask the male... especially someone like you. You're are definitely not the one that 

the males turn to out of desperation. You're too beautiful _not_ to have your pick as far as the males go."

"You really think so?"

"_Oh, yeah_."

"Thanks..." Hermione begins with a small giggle, "Then too, there is the fact that: what would the other professors say?"

"Nothing. I'm too powerful for them to challenge me on any point I make a firm decision on. But I see your point. Oh, and to be more precise, I'm two-hundred and forty-seven trillion. To put things into perspective, if you counted one number, in order, every second, of every minute, of every hour, of every day of your life, it would take you seven point eight two six... _million_ years to even come close to my age..." Looking at the small clock on my desk, "Damn... I didn't mean to keep you this long... and you've got potions next. Well, just give Snape this note, and if he gives you any shit, just remind him about Fluffy." I say as I scrawl a note excusing Mione's tardiness to her next class.

"Thanks. And Beriath?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry... I really wish that I'd met you first."

"No... don't be sorry. The life of a Yharaxis... it's a cursed existence. For the individual and anyone around them."

"What do you mean, Beriath?"

"Go on, you'll be late to your next class." I say quietly, in what is an obvious dismissal.

"I see. Thank you Beriath... for everything."

"Sure." I mutter as she turns and leaves.


	4. Chapter 3: An Unusual Enchant

Disclamer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of J.K.Rowlings work, storylines, etc.

Chapter 3: An Unusual Enchant

"God, I'm tired..." Ron complains to Harry as they walk into their dorm room. Ron just tosses his staff in the nearest corner, Harry carefully sets his numchucks on his nightstand, seeming to intentionally counterpoint Ron's carelessness. "These training sessions are insane Harry."

"Yeah, maybe, but you want to get good enough to pass NMC class right? I'm just glad that you could finally got to Bankai today. At least your command was simple." Harry replies easily.

"Yeah. _Taneomaku._ I asked Beriath about it... said that it meant 'seed'. Fitting, I guess." Ron mutters blandly as he pushes the curtains of his bed aside, just wanting to collapse.

"Yeah, I know... But we both need the training, Hermione has already mastered Bankai, and Beriath thinks that she'll learn how to go Kajokai in a few days."

"Yeah." Ron mutters as he finally notices a large package sitting in the middle of his bed. After a moments hesitation, he tears open the package to find a silk, deep navy blue, button-down shirt. Inside is a note:

Ron,

Tough break on the Ball, being a dateless wonder and all. Wear this on the day of the Ball and be there (it's been enchanted, but I'll not tell you what it is... yet). All will be revealed at that time.

X

Harry got a similar package, only his shirt was a deep forest green. His package also had a note in it:

Harry,

Good going with Ginny. I hope Ron isn't being overly protective anymore, but I doubt it. Anyway, have a good time at the Ball.

X

P.S.

Look in the shirt pocket, ask Ron to do the same.

"My note says that we should look in the shirt pocket." Harry states plainly.

After looking in the pocket they both find a ring that is perfectly sized for their middle (not their ring) finger. Harry's ring is silver with and emerald the size of a thumbnail at the center. The jewel has a band of runes encircling it. Ron's ring is the same save for the fact that the gem at the center is a garnet, not an emerald and that the ring itself is gold, not silver.

/

Meanwhile in the girls dorm...

"Hey, Hermione!" Lavender calls from across the room.

"Yes, Lavender?"

"You have a package on your bed."

"Really? From who?" Hermione asks as she approaches.

"Don't know, I don't see any note with it."

Hermione walks over and gives the package an assessing look. "Open now." is inscribed in gold lettering on the package. With a certain degree of hesitation she does just that. Inside is a spaghetti strap cerulean blue, evening gown, with slits in the sides that stop at about mid thigh. Under the dress is a necklace made of gold, there are nine tear-drop shaped emeralds dangling off of the gold chain. Also enclosed is a ring, smaller that the one's Harry and Ron got, done in silver and aquamarine. There are also black nylon sheathes. Enclosed is a note:

Hermione,

Have a good time at the Ball... what I wouldn't give to see you in this dress before then though. Ah well, c'est la vie. Just remember, Ron still thinks that you're going with me to the Ball, so try not to let anything slip. I hope everything is to your satisfaction. I'll see you at the Ball, if not before.

Beriath

P.S.

The Sheathes are for Futagoken. Also, each of the weapons have a name if you haven't figured that out. Knowing them is the key to learning how to go Kajokai. I would tell you more, but doing so would constitute cheating on your final.

P.P.S.

Also, Lavender, I know that you are sneaking peeks at Mione's letter, and the above does not apply for _your_ weapon going Kajokai.

"How the hell does he do that?" Hermione asks no one in particular.

"I don't know," Lavender begins, "but I know for damn sure which class you're passing."

/

Meanwhile in the neighboring girl's dorm, Ginny is discovering her own package. In it is a dress done in the same style as Hermione's, only hers is black, the necklace is silver with garnets and her ring is white gold with onyx. She also has a note:

Ginny,

I hope you have a good time at the Ball. Hope you like everything. I'll see you there.

Beriath

/

Christmas Eve, outside the Great Hall...

"I don't know what I'm doing here..." Ron complains to Harry with an exaggerated sigh.

"No kidding... I wonder what kind of enchantment your clothes have on them, though." Harry replies blandly.

"I'm more concerned about who wrote that note... Probably just Beriath, rubbing in the fact that _he's_ going out with my would-be girlfriend."

"From the way it was written, I'm inclined to agree. Still, he gave you fair warning."

"Yeah, yeah." Ron responds irritably.

"Ah, look, here they come."

Ginny is slightly ahead of myself and Hermione. We are arm-in-arm talking animatedly, purposefully taking our time coming down the stairs. Ginny hurries over to Harry, putting an arm around his waist after planting a chaste kiss on his lips when she reaches him. He returns the small possessive gesture by putting his arm around her shoulders. Looking to her, "Wow... Ginny... You look amazing."

With a small giggle, "You're no slouch yourself, Harry."

"Well, I'm glad that the attire I supplied you with has met with your approval, Ginny."

"It certainly has, but I think I look better in creme."

"Heh. You know that one could easily misinterpret that sentence, and I'm sure you do, but you look innocent enough as it is."

"Ungh. That's not what I meant."

"Hahahaha... I know. Creme would certainly suit you very well."

"Then why black?"

"Three reasons, one; black has a habit of accentuating features. It was a no-brainer for you, with your porcelain skin and fire-red hair, the best colors for you would be black or an off-white, i.e... creme. Two; black is a very seductive color, you in a black dress like that... I do not doubt that you'll be turning your fair share of heads. Lastly, you in something whitish, would convey a certain innocence, which A; I'm sure you lost your first year, no thanks to Voldemort. And B; there are those who find that innocent look sexy, but more who find the seductress look to be just as, if not more so. It's the same reason I chose cerulean for Hermione. It serves to accentuate her skin and hair color. ... Not to mention the fact that I had a little bit of, ah, inspiration when choosing her color." I say as a blush comes to Hermione's face.

"So it _was_ you?" Harry asks.

"Oh, don't act so surprised, you did, after all, suspect that this was my doing." I retort. "Same goes for you Ron... you owe me a _big_ one for this."

"For what!?" He responds angrily, "Stealing the woman I love!?"

"Oh, so _now_ you admit it... fucking retard. No, you owe me for getting the clothes and for hooking you up with Hermione."

"Huh?"

"Yeah. I told Hermione about you problem concerning the fact that you can't keep your mouth shut save for when what you need to say is important. Truth be told, she wanted to go with you in the first place."

"I... I see."

"Well, enjoy the ball. And, Ron?"

"Yes?"

"Don't disappoint me..." I say as I turn and look at Hermione who is now arm-in-arm with Ron, "...or, more importantly, her. Take my advice, Ron, she genuinely loves you. That is a rare thing, far rarer than those fairy-tales would have you believe. You have been given a wonderful gift, the love of a good woman, don't screw it up."

"You got it... And, Beriath?"

"Yeah?" I ask irritably.

"Thanks."

"Uh-huh." I mutter as I walk away. But before I can take a second step...

"By the way, what was the enchantment you put on my clothes?"

"I should think that would be self-evident by now... the only enchantment I used against you was the standard power of suggestion."

"Oh... okay."

After walking about halfway down the hall, and without turning, "Oh, and Harry, I must speak with you after the ball. What I've to say does not concern you three, but the after-effects very well could. I leave it to each of you to decide whether or not you also wish to hear what I've to say." I finish as I continue down the hall.

"That was odd." Harry mutters.

"Indeed it was." Ginny seconds. After a few seconds hesitation, the two couples enter the already busy Great Hall.

"How the hell did he do that?" Harry asks rhetorically.

"How did who do what?" Ron asks, anyway. Harry just points to where Dumbledore, McGonagall, and I are sitting. "How the bloody hell?" Ron asks.

_**Ask later, Ron. Like I said, the opportunity for love is a rare occurrence, don't screw it up.**_

__"Beriath?"

_**Yes. The others cannot hear me though, I am speaking directly to your mind. That is one of the powers of those rings I gave you. It allows telepathic speaking with any who wear one of those rings. You, Harry, Mione, and Ginny. You can communicate with me by this means since I am the creator of this ability. There are some others who have similar rings, but you've not met them. Nor will you, unless you are extremely unfortunate.**_

"Ron?" Hermione asks, noticing her boyfriends contemplative look. Harry and Ginny are already dancing a slow waltz on the floor.

"Oh, sorry, Mione. It's Beriath, he's speaking to me with his mind. Turning to look at me across the room, "How can I speak to you with this method?" Ron asks, not bothering to raise his voice.

_**Simple, Picture me in your mind, and think what you want to say at my image. Bear in mind, though that you must think **__**at**__** my image, merely picturing me and thinking what you wish to say is not sufficient. It is a preventative feature that allows ones thoughts to remain private and allows a person to restrict access to certain parts of the mind. By communicating with this method, you are allowing me to enter your mind, but this fail-safe prevents me from seeing thoughts and memories that you wish to remain private. The same is true for myself. By speaking to you I am allowing you into my mind.**_

_**Like this?**_ Ron asks.

_**Yes. Feel free to make an attempt to communicate with your friends.**_

_**Mione, can you hear me?**_

__"Of course I can. Why would you ask?"

_**Because I am speaking to you telepathically. Apparently you can do the same. The rings that Beriath gave us are giving us this ability.**_

__"Really? How- how do I do that?"

_**Just picture the person you want to talk to in your head, and think what you want to say at the person. Apparently you **__**have**__** to think it at person, or it doesn't work.**_

_**Like this? **_ Hermione asks.

"Yes."

_**Well, this is an interesting gift, now isn't it? **_A familiar voice asks.

_**Harry?**_

_**Yeah. Beriath taught us while you two were talking.**_

_**If you four are finished... **_I begin _**... There are other abilities that the rings confer to the **_

_**wearer, but I'll cover those later tonight. Gryffindor common room after the ball. For the time being though, enjoy yourselves. I'll say no more until when we meet tonight. Later.**_

"Well, it is a ball... I suppose we should follow Beriath's advice, and enjoy ourselves. May I have this dance, Milady?" Ron asks as he turns to Hermione.

"How gallant. Of course." Hermione responds allowing Ron to lead her out to the dance floor, where a fast tango has begun.

_About fucking time..._ I think to myself. Failing to hold the sudden surge of jealousy back I allow myself to add aloud, "But damned if I didn't bring this on myself... Fuck-shit!"

"Professor Beriath?" Dumbledore asks, blandly. Almost as though he already knows the answer.

"Hehehe..." I begin with a sardonic chuckle, "Are you sure you want to know, Dumbledore?"

"I've no pressing engagements. I loathe to say it, but were it not for Voldemort, the faculty would be just as engaged in the merriment of the night as the students. As it is, though, we must keep constant vigil. Besides, watching, and not being allowed to take part in such a grandiose ball, makes for a rather dull evening. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Ah, but that, Albus is the very root of my dilemma. It's Hermione... I believe, dare I say, that I am falling in love with her. But as you can plainly see, she already loves Ron, and he reciprocates, although less vociferously."

"I can understand your dilemma then, but it has been my understanding that when a demon, or Yharaxis, wants something, they get it, no matter what the cost. What I fail to understand is that you sound as though you have already given up."

"Heh, perhaps I have. I sound as though I've already given up because despite what I want, I went and played matchmaker with Ron and Hermione."

"Why ever did you do that?"

"Their feelings for each other were already there, all I did was force them, Ron for the most part, to act on them."

"I see. An interesting predicament. Still, do you not already have a wife and son? As I understand it, the Yharaxis are fiercely loyal."

"Very true, but you operate under a misapprehension. We are loyal insofar as our mates allow us to be. As for a wife... no, I've no wives, we do not fall prey to such useless rituals that you mortals do. As far as people I love and that are of the opposite sex, I've four, not one. And all four know that the Yharaxis feed largely off sex, and unless they want sex anywhere from three to twenty times daily, they understand the necessity of polygamy. As a matter of fact, one of my mates is subtly urging me to get a few more. Three to twenty times daily is a tall order, even divided among four."

"Really, and who are these four astoundingly understanding women?"

"You'd not know them."

"Please... indulge me."

"Aerith, Lucia, Mariel, and Kagome... satisfied?"

"Eminently."

"Old perverted loon. Believe me, you are most definitely not their type."

"Oh? Well, I'll just have to take solace in the fact that I am Minerva's type." Dumbledore says as he take McGonagall's hand in his own.

"Dumbledore, anata wa hentai desu." (Dumbledore, you're a pervert.)

"No arguments here." McGonagall mutters with a slight blush, but smiling at 

Dumbledore in spite of her embarrassment.

"Oh? So I suppose that it wasn't _your_ naked Quidditch match calendar I saw in your office? (Trust me: Read 'Naked Quidditch Match' on ) I find it ironic that your quote-unqoute niece "Minnie" never got the calendar. And 'kitten'? That's just plain wrong. Not to mention the fact that the calendar is already two years old. That you still have it is the sickest part of all." I rant.

McGonagall just turns cherry-red at that, and has nothing to say in her defense.

Dumbledore just smiles and takes a large gulp of his wine.

"Hmph!" I snort, "Just my luck to surrounded by perverts." I mutter quietly.

"Perverts, eh?" Dumbledore begins. "If memory serves, you want one of the students here."

"True, but I, at least am giving the illusion of acting my age. Unlike you two... you're ancient!"

"Oh, no you don't!" McGonagall snaps only half jokingly, "Don't you try to bullshit us. We all know that you are over two-hundred trillion."

"True but I am the equivalent of a twenty-two year old. Literally. The Yharaxis' body grows and ages like a human's, until at some point we just...stop. My body stopped growing and deteriorating at twenty-two. So, in actuality, there is only about a four year difference between me and Hermione, and that will take care of itself... in time. Well," I begin as I glance at my wristwatch, "I'd best be going, I have much to discuss with some of my students. Goodnight, perverts."

Turning to McGonagall, "Well, if he thinks we're perverts, we may as well act the part. Don't you agree, Minnie?"

"What did you have in mind?" McGonagall asks with a sly smile.

Dumbledore just smiles in response.

_**You are both sick.**_They both hear in their minds.

_**Oh, bugger off!**_ Dumbledore shouts telepathically.

_**I'm just sayin', is all.**_

/

In Gryffindor Tower...

I am sitting in the common room, in a large leather-bound chair that faces the portal that the portrait of the fat lady guards. There is a roaring fire behind me. After a few moments that portrait swings wide and the two couples step through. Both Harry and Ron have lipstick smeared across their faces. It is obvious that that there was an attempt, albeit a failed one, at hiding their action. "Been tongue wrestling, I see. Who won?"

"They did." Harry and Ron respond instantly and simultaneously. All the while all four of them turn bright red.

"Well, while I am overjoyed at the arrival of the tomato quartet, there really is some serious business that must be attended to."

"Right... but do you mind if we... uh, you know." Harry said gesturing to his face.

With an exasperated sigh, "Yeah, yeah...Go on ahead. But make it quick."

"Thanks, Beriath."

/

...A few minutes later...

The quartet is seated in what could best be described as a couch across from me. Between us is a table, which is currently empty, but it has been magically enhanced in some way, shape, 

or form, since that air above the table's surface is wavering. Would you all like a drink?" I ask after a moment.

"Tea... mint." Harry immediately responds.

"Butterbeer." Ron follows a syllable behind.

"I'd like a coffee." Ginny says quietly.

"I'll have tea, too."

"Any specific kind?"

After a second's contemplation, "Earl Grey."

"Alright." I say as I snap my fingers and a silver tray forms on the table, complete with all the requested drinks, along with three shot glasses full to the brim; one with a very dark and thick amber liquid, another with a liquid that looks like a very dark bacterial culture, and the last with a movie-blood red fluid; a large glass with a dark purple fluid in it, a coke, milk, lemon, and sugar. While the others are still grabbing their drinks, I snatch up the shot glass and down it in one swallow, and grab the glass with the purple fluid at a more relaxed pace.

"Hey, uh, Beriath, what was are those?" Ron asks.

"The amber shot was a Russian Winter. Kaluah, vodka, and peppermint schnapps, in equal parts... basically, its a minty Black Russian; the black shot was a Black Plague, again in equal parts, blue curaco, firewater, and Jeagermeister... probably the most aptly named shot I've ever hear of, since it is black and it tastes like death; the last was a Trashed Rancher, it tastes like watermelon flavored 'Jolly Rancher's, it is 2 parts vodka, 1 part grenadine, 3 parts Malibu rum, and 2 parts sour apple liquor. This," I begin as I lift the glass slightly, "is called the Purple Haze. Grenadine, Triple Sec, Blue Curaco, Cranberry juice, and Peach Schnapps. It's a pussy drink, but quite good. Now, let's start with the simple stuff. The rings I gave you each represent two things. A Hogwarts House, and a specific arcane element. It also houses the power of the founder of the House each ring represents. Hermione, your ring holds the power of Hufflepuff. It also gives you dominion over what is probably the most powerful element, namely water and the spirits thereof. As your control of the power increases you will be able to alter the shape, density, and rigidity of water in all it's forms, you will also be able to summon water from whatever environment you are in. Ginny, your ring holds the power of Ravenclaw and gives you dominion over the earth and over forest, desert, and plains spirits. While this element is physically inept, comparatively speaking, you will have the knowledge of living thing on this planet. The earth element is lacking physically because it relies on all other elements to sustain it. But it will prove to be more than adequate for defensive and tactical abilities. Ron, you have Gryffindor's ring, and hold dominion over fire and fire spirits. This is probably the most physically able of the elements, but it does have its weaknesses. Like the fire, your power is great and fast, but dwindles and dies quickly. You are truly powerful when paired up with wind and earth to sustain you. And Harry, you hold Slytherin's ring. Your power will come quickly and in copious quantities. Like the others, you can manipulate the very air and control spirits of the wind. This has both advantages and disadvantages. You have an unlimited supply of power since the very nature of wind is self sustaining, but wind spirits are rare and volatile, they owe allegiance to no one. You must exercise caution around them, since they will pull pranks on you at some of the most inopportune times. You'll have an unlimited supply of power to call upon to perform the more basic techniques, but you are risking much to call upon the more advanced techniques, all of which, for all elements, involve the use of one or more of the spirits. The one redeeming part is that wind offers the most versatile set of basic skills."

"Awww, Slytherin? Why did I get the Slytherin ring?"

"Because you are wearing it. The communication ability is common enough, and easy to do, but the other powers... those can only be used and called upon by those meant to have them. The fact that you are each wearing your rings, prove that they were meant for you, and vice-versa. Besides, having Slytherin's ring isn't necessarily bad. Power is nothing until it is used. It is how the power is used that dictates whether it can be identified as good or evil, or both, or neither. Even if the ring were somehow evil, what would the light be without the darkness? Or the darkness without the light? The fact of the matter is that all of the elements need each other to survive. The winds carry the clouds, which bring water to the earth, and feeds the fire which destroys that which feeds off the earth, which in turn feeds the oceans. The oceans feed the earth, allowing things to grow, which in turn feeds the winds. The point is that with one of you missing, with one void, the whole crumbles. Now, on to some topics that are somewhat more difficult to speak of. Some time soon, Harry, you will encounter the new incarnation of Voldemort. He has gained phenomenal new power. Power enough that if I fought him, I'd die without taking on my real name again. Having said that, I present you with this." I say as I toss Harry a vial of black viscous liquid, "That Harry, is the Demon's Essence. It will change you, permanently, into a human-Yharaxis hybrid. What is more commonly known as a 'demon'... an immortal, although a more accurate name would be 'Yharaz'."

"I sense a 'but' coming."

"You're right...unfortunately. Becoming a demon is a harsh process, it's painful and it's dangerous. You could potentially die. Although it's unlikely, about a 7 chance. Far more likely, in the vicinity of a 60 chance, is that all of you memories will be erased and you will only know he who supplied you with the Essence."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that your friends, your family, your history, all of your memories, good or bad... everybody and everything, will be erased. The only thing you will remember is me and what I want of you."

"So, why can't you fight him?"

"I could, but the result would be disastrous. By revealing my real name, all of the demonic would be summoned to this point. Most will focus immediately on the destruction of the general area. Within moments, Hogwarts and Hogsmeade would be destroyed, then all of Britain, then the rest of Europe, and eventually the world. I could fight them off, but the likelihood of my success would be minimal. Now, I am in the process of making a potion that will reduce the risk and restore the memories of the Essence's drinker. Now, I know that this is a tough decision, with a lot on the line, but you needed to know. I'll leave the decision to fight or not, up to you."

"And if I choose not to?"

"Then I'll make my way as best I am able. I'll hold off the onslaught of the demonic as long as I can, but ultimately, this world will end."

"And if I fight?"

"I don't know. It could work out well, you would become powerful and all but immortal, retain yourself, and we could kill the new incarnation of Voldemort. Or it could all go to shit and have the result be the same, but the likelihood would be reduced."

"Then I'll fight."

"Hold on, Harry. I said that _ultimately_ the world will be destroyed. To be honest that fate would still be several centuries off, minimally. And even then, there may be hope that this world would survive, however unlikely."

"I know. Even so, I wouldn't be able to live with myself knowing that I could have done something, and didn't."

"Thank you Harry. I'll arrange to have a vial of NEC brought here for you."

"NEC?"

"Negative Essence Counter. The potion I told you of that counters the negative effects of the Demon's Essence, while not yet ready, it is only a matter of days before it is. Heh... It's ironic."

"What is?"

"Your father said the exact same thing when I requested his help. Which brings me-"

"You knew my father!?"

"Oh, yes, and so do you for that matter. Which brings me to the last point, it was the essence's power that allowed him to switch bodies, though I don't know why he did. In any case, it was during that time that Voldemort attacked, he destroyed your father's flesh, but his soul was in another body. The part that makes James Potter James Potter is still here."

"My father... alive?" Harry asks, staring blankly at nothing in particular, ignoring the tears slowly trickling down his face. Ginny puts a comforting arm around Harry's shoulders, Hermione does likewise from the other side. "Who... who is he, why hasn't he told me?"

With a sigh, "I'm sorry, Harry, I really am, but I've told you too much already. I'll try to talk to him, but I doubt that I'll sway him. He will probably remain in hiding until Voldemort is dead. Voldemort is the sole reason he's not revealed himself yet. He is only doing it for his safety... and yours. All I can do is tell you with a certainty, that he will reveal himself once Voldemort is dead."

"But... but I've seen him... his spirit... my father's."

"No Harry. You saw your mother's and the soul of he who died in your father's flesh. The soul is amorphous while the container lives, but it takes on the form of the flesh that held it at death."

"_You_ are my father." Harry states more than asks.

"No, Harry, I am not your father. I don't fear Voldemort, I take on my real name again, and he dies, simple."

"It's Lupin, isn't it?"

"No, Harry. Besides, you could toss the names of every man, woman, and child in the world at me, and my answer won't change. Strength of Eternity be on you, Harry Potter. You will need it ere this ends." I say as I get up and walk out, leaving Harry cradled in the arms of Ginny and Hermione. Ron is still at a loss as far as what to do, eventually he settles on grabbing a cup of tea for Harry and waiting.

/

...A few hours later in my office...

My office is small, spartan, but not really lacking. There is a four-poster king size bed, with sheets, pillows, and drapes done in black. There is a desk with a computer, a Playstation 3, and a TV on a large desk in the corner by the heavy oaken door; a bookshelf on the opposite wall filled with games, books, and DVDs. There is a recess in the wall between the desk and bookshelf; and lastly, there is a large mirror on the wall next to the foot of the bed. I am standing in front of the mirror. Instead of reflecting my image, there is an image of a woman in it. She looks to be tall, about my height... maybe a slight bit smaller, and she is pale as a sheet and has black hair going in lazy curls down to her waist. At the moment she is wearing a tight white tank top, clearly showing that she is not excessive, but neither is she lacking in the chest area, and 

tight black jeans. "What's up, Beriath?" She asks.

"Not much Kagome. I need a few things done on your end."

"Sure. What?"

"Harry knows about his father. I think that we should arrange a meeting."

"I know. He's still holding out. I doubt I'll have any luck in making him come forward."

"As do I. I have a feeling that some major shit will be going down soon, I'm thinking that it won't be long before I am compelled to bring Harry to NULL."

"I see. I suppose we still can't offer him your greatest mark?"

"Indeed, to do so would require me calling upon my true name. But perhaps you could give him the gift of Creator's Sight? I would like to get his input in certain scenarios, and to show him what is going on. Especially what is to happen tomorrow."

"I don't see why not."

"Excellent. I imagine that we'll be there sometime tomorrow, maybe the day after."

"Are you sure that this is a good idea? I mean one of the reasons he won't come forward is because of the prophecy."

"I know. Try telling him about some of the other prophecies. After all, there _is_ more than one about the 'boy-who-lived'.

"I'll try. Do you want me to dress up for the arrivals?"

"I leave that up to you."

"I think I will, I haven't had a decent excuse to do so in ages. Combat or formal?"

"Hmmm... You are to beautiful to just show your combat side, unless you are intending on killing those that see you. Still, I would suggest combat gear initially, then formal, since we do need to show ability, and solidarity."

"Okay. Thanks Beriath."

"Sure. Oh, and two other things, One; have the others dressed for combat as well, and lastly; tell Lupin that unless he reveals himself to Harry as his father, I will have no more use for him and that he, conveniently, might just be felled in battle. Tell him that I have no use for those that do not pull any weight, and unless he does something to aid in the preservation of Harry, he's useless. Stress the point that as Remus Lupin, he can't do that, but he _can_ as James Potter."

"I will."

"Thanks, love." I say as the mirror goes blank.

/

Gryffindor Tower common room, 2 am...

yawn "You're still up, Harry?" Ron asks sleepily, "C'mon man, this can't be good for you." He says as he puts a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"My father... alive... All these years and I never knew..." Harry mutters in a daze. After a few moments he seems to come back to himself, "What are you doing up, Ron?"

"Oh... I... uh... I was going to the bathroom." Ron stammers.

"Oh..." Harry mutters non-commitally.

"Is he _still_ awake?" Hermione asks as she walks down the stairs from the girl's dormitories.

"Her-Hermione!? What are you doing up... and almost wearing _that_ no less!?" Ron asks, outraged. She is wearing the same thing that she was during the little... encounter... with me. Only, this time, one of the spaghetti straps has slid down one of her shoulders.

"Checking up on Harry." She states matter-of-factly.

Ron sits down quickly. In spite of the severity of the current situation he, like any other 

normal male, is getting a major hard-on. The fact that her negligee has hiked up some, and is showing the very bottom of her silk panties, is not helping Ron's condition any. At least they match. Unsurprisingly, no one notices me when I enter the room. Harry is too emotionally drained to care about anything, Ron is ... distracted, and Hermione seems to be delighting in her would-be boyfriend's reaction.

"Hey, Harry... I need to... ... ta-l-k... t-o... uhhhhhh..." I mutter as finally notice Hermione. "... ... ... ... ... ..."

"Beriath?" Ron asks somewhat irritably.

"..." By this point there is some drool coming out of the corner of my mouth.

Blushing profusely, Hermione finally decides to "notice" that her negligee has hiked up some, correcting her attire.

"BERIATH!" Ron yells, finally deciding that I've enjoyed the free show long enough.

"Huh... What?" I ask, snapping out of my euphoria.

"You had something to say to Harry?" Ron prompts.

"Oh right. I don't mind if the two of you listen in, but Hermione could you at least put on some pants, or a skirt, or _something_? With you looking like that, I'll not be able to pay attention to what needs to be said, and I doubt that Ron'll be listening."

"Yeah... sure." She mutters abashed, as she turns and heads back up to the girls dormitory.

"Why? I don't mind the view." Ron complains.

"That's for damn sure." I mutter to myself, to Ron I add, "Neither do I... Which is, unfortunately, the problem. Despite the fact that I'd want an encore of the show, it is very distracting."

"Yeah. I s'pose you're right." Ron laments.

/

About five minutes later Hermione comes down wearing the same silk negligee as a top, but has added a pair of black jeans that might as well have been painted on. It was an improvement... of sorts, in that we saw less... but it left little to the imagination, and was still proving to be rather distracting to Ron and myself. Still, I was not about to ask her to go change again. She seems to be getting sexier every time she walks down those stairs, I think I'd have a heart attack if she continues along that pattern. After clearing my throat, trying to regain some composure, "Right then... as you all know, Harry's Father is alive and well, and that he'll not reveal himself for fear of Voldemort. Well, I believe that meeting his father to be in Harry's best interest. Having said that, I will be taking Harry, and if he okay's it, you three as well to NULL to do just that. However, we cannot leave until tomorrow afternoon... there will be some... unpleasantness tomorrow morning, which Harry, you must be a part of, I'm afraid. After that though, depending on your condition, we can leave."

"You- you mean that... I'll get... to-to meet my father?" Harry stammers, snapping out of his zombie-like state.

"Yeah."

As always, Hermione's curiosity gets the best of her, "NULL?"

"Yes, a place between dimensions, the name is an abbreviation for **N**egavtive **U**niversa**L** **L**ocation. Harry meet me outside the Great Hall at ten."

"Beriath?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet, Harry. Remember what I said. Strength of Eternity, Potter... you'll need it."

"Still... thanks."

With a sigh, "There is no need for thanks Harry, I'd do the same for any friend." I say as I turn and take my leave, "...I need a cold shower again... Fuck!" the hear me mutter quietly but with passion.


	5. Chapter 4: Enter the Dark Lord

Disclamer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of J.K.Rowlings work, storylines, etc.

Chapter 4: Enter the Dark Lord

"So... he did all that to your son before he could even draw his wand? Most impressive."

"Yes, my Master." replied a kneeling Lucius Malfoy.

"And this 'Beriath' claims that he did so without using magic of any sort?"

"That is correct, my Master."

"Interesting... Very interesting. I may have someone that I need to deal with personally other than that accursed Potter. Can he speak Parceltongue?"

"I have no proof of whether he can or cannot, however, considering the abilities he's displayed thus far, I would assume so. Also, my Master... I have left some spies at Hogwarts... Beriath has indicated that the soul of James Potter may still be living in another's flesh. They have also found out that Harry Potter will be meeting his father tomorrow afternoon."

"Heh. Heh-heh. Ahahahaha. Really? You have done well Lucius. Well, perhaps I should send them a present, after all it is Christmas."

"Master?"

"Nagini..."

"Yesss, my Massster?" Nagini hisses.

"I have a present I wish you to deliver to the Potter boy, and a message to be delivered: Lord Beriath, I have been made aware of your exceptional abilities by one of my Deatheaters, and that you, unfortunately, aid the Potter boy. Having said that, I know that you could be a truly valuable asset, should you... decide to change sides. I would like you to join forces with me... With your power added to my own, we would control this world inside a month. The only stipulation is, of course, that you cease your aiding the Potter boy. While it would be greatly appreciated if you delivered him to me alive, I do realize that such a request may be asking too much... Deliver him this message in the presence of the Potter boy, just in case he cannot speak Parceltongue, I also would like to hear what kind of expression of utter despair consumes the boy's face when Beriath accepts. ... And wish the Potter boy a merry Christmas. Tell him that I'll be sending him to see his family... well, his mother at least, very soon. And give him this package." the desiccated husk of a man, that is Voldemort says as he indicates a modest-sized package.

Coiling around the package, "Asss my Massster wissshess, ssso sssshall it be done." Nagini finishes as he/she slithers out of the room.

/

Christmas Morning, Gryffindor Tower...

"Harry! Harry, wake up Mate! It's Christmas!" Ron shouts into his friend's ear.

"Uhhhh... it's too early, Ron."

"But, Harry... you gotta get up, if you want to have enough time to open your presents before meeting Beriath."

"Oh, yeah." Harry mutters as he sits upright drowsily.

"C'mon Harry, let's see what you got for Christmas!" Ron shouts as he practically drags his still only half-conscious friend down the stairs.

"Okay... okay..." Harry mutters with a yawn, but Ron's characteristic exuberance seems to be wearing off on Harry in some small way since he is now walking instead of shuffling. 

Hermione and Ginny are already waiting in the common room. Considering the lack of packages strewn around the tree and the overflow of decorated paper covering the floor, it seems most Gryffindors have already come and gone, despite the early hour. The only other Gryffindor is Collin, and he is too busy tearing into his packages like a rampaging beast, to spare Harry little more than a half-hearted 'good morning' and 'merry Christmas'. "Merry Christmas, everyone." Harry mutters as he completes his descent. He is nearly as lack-luster in his greeting as Collin.

"Merry Christmas, Harry." Hermione responds, "I know that you want to get this done as quickly as possible, considering your meeting with Beriath. So, let's get started." She says as she hands Harry a sizeable package.

"_The Complete Guide to Hexes and Curses_, Thank you, Hermione." Harry says with false sincerity. Having been able to practice it for the past seven years has made him something of a master already. "And I agree, with my meeting with Beriath, I guess we _should_ start immediately. Here..." Harry begins as he trusts a large package into Hermione's hands, "I guess we had the same idea for each other."

With that Hermione's face lit up like the Christmas tree a few feet away and she tore into her package like a starving wolf. "Thank you, Harry, thank you." She shouts as she holds the book up like she is about to clobber someone with it. It is _The Ultimate Book on Hexes and Curses and How to Break Them_.

While Hermione is still bouncing around like a rubber ball, Harry hands Ron what looks like a muggle mailing tube.

Ron opens the tube and quickly unrolls the poster within. It is of his favorite Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons, and it has the autographs of the entire team. "Holy shit..." is all he mutters, "Bloody Hell, I wish I could compare to that!" Ron laments as he hands Harry a five-pack of butterbeer and a coupon for a free meal at the Three Broomsticks.

"Thanks Ron, it's great. Really."

"And this is your, Gin." Ron says as he hands his little sister a small package, in which there is the 'Worlds Finest Coffee Collection'.

"Thanks, Ron."

"Oh, that's not the half of it. I know that it isn't much so I had Beriath enchant it to replenish any flavors that run out. Also, if you don't like any particular flavor, or get tired of one, you can tap the one you don't want with your wand, say 'replace' and it'll be replaced with something else."

"You're joking right?" Ginny asks, the shock apparent in her voice.

"Nope."

"That was surprisingly thoughtful of you Ron." Hermione puts in.

After thanking Ron profusely, "Here Hermione, this is for you." Ginny says as she hands Hermione an octagon shaped package.

Inside is a box of liqueur filled chocolates. "Thanks Gin."

"I think Harry and I were thinking along the same lines for your gift, Ron." Ginny says as she hands him a long, narrow package, which Ron tears into with much the same fervor that Hermione did Harry's gift. In it is a broomstick, which has been autographed by the captain of the Chudley Cannons. "That isn't a replica either... that broomstick was actually used by the Cannons."

"H-How did you get a hold of this, Gin!?"

"Beriath apparently has contacts in all the worth-while places."

"I think Ron's gonna faint." Hermione puts in.

"Yep. Looks like it." Harry concurs.

Still somewhat dazed, "Speak for yourself, Mione... open yours." Ron mutters as he thrust a small thin box into her hands.

Hermione opens the small package with a little trepidation... but opens it nonetheless. "Oh, my god... Ron..." She mutters in shock, just before leaping up, latching on to Ron, and giving him a damn near two minute long kiss.

Harry and Ginny are just sitting, staring. Clearly baffled at their friend's uncharacteristic display of anything resembling romance. Ginny is first to break the silence, "Well, what did he get you?"

Hermione just holds up two first class plane tickets to Paris as a response. "Oh my god..." Harry and Ginny echo.

"Just you and me, Mione. I've already cleared it with Dumbledore."

"Damn Ron, how did you afford _that_!? You're making it hard to keep up. Ah, well..." Harry mutters in awe, as he hands Ginny a small velvet box, no larger than two inches by two inches by two inches.

Ginny opens her package with even more trepidation that Hermione did hers'. "Oh-my-god..." Ginny says for the second time in the last two minutes. Inside the box is a small gold ring, with a diamond on the size of a rat's brain, "Harry... is this... an en- en-..."

"No. Just a prelude of things to come. A promise, if you will."

"Daaaamn Harry... You got me beat." I say as I look over Ginny's shoulders.

"Oh, Beriath... when did you get here?" Harry asks as his attention shifts.

"Just now. Well, I am sorry to say that I am in a hurry, so I'll just give you your gifts and go." I say as hand each of them a ruby pendant. "This pendant is a powerful teleportation device. It'll take you to the Burrow, Hermione's Home, Hogsmeade, Hogwarts, Diagon Alley, Platform 9¾, My Home, and one other place. You are all welcome to my home at any time. Harry, this is yours..." I say as I hand Harry a small velvet box, similar to the one he just gave Ginny. In it are a pair of typical wedding bands.

"Beriath... I'm honored, really. But I don't think that you and I-"

"They belonged to your Mother and Father."

"What... Beriath, I can't thank you enough, I-... Wait a minute, how did you get a hold of these?"

"Your Father had two weddings. One public, one private. I was his best man at the private one. He entrusted them to my care just before his body died, to give to you when I felt you ready to receive them."

"Thank you..."

"Ginny, I'm sending you and three friends, I can only assume Harry, Ron, and Hermione, to Brazil for a weeks vacation... Goddamn, I sound like a fucking game-show host... Eh, well, I know you like coffee, but haven't had any until you've had authentic Brazilian... Oh, and the Amazon's nice too."

"Sweet. Thanks Beriath."

"Next. Ron. I've set up a meeting for you with the Cannons, three weeks from now. Also, not only did the agree to meet with you, they want to play Gryffindor. I figured that you would probably appreciate playing your favorite team, so I agreed. Play hard when you do, I made them swear that they would play seriously. I know well their skills, and I believe that the Gryffindor team has a sixty-forty chance in your favor." With that Ron really does faint. His eyes roll up, showing almost nothing but white, and he drops back like a ton of bricks. "Hmm... I think he 

likes the gift..." I finish with a shrug. Turning to Hermione, "Now then. Mione, have you ever heard of the Fountain of Knowledge?"

Shaking her head, "I've heard of the Tree of Knowledge, but only as a part of certain myths... nothing to make me think that it's real."

"Oh, it's real." I say as I hand her a card, on it are the words 'lifetime pass' and a barcode. "The Fountain is the ultimate tool for self-betterment. Among it's facilities are various fields for almost every sport imaginable, a sparring ground, and the largest library in the world; having literally, every book ever written. I will be arranging lifetime passes for all of you, but that will take a few weeks. Lastly, this is the last place that your amulets go."

Hermione just stares, dumbstruck.

"Ah, yes... I forgot to tell you how the amulets work, no?"

"Yeah." Harry says.

"Grasp the pendant in your right hand and speak the name of the place you wish to go to. Simple as that. Although, I will say this, you may wish to close your eyes during the actual teleportation process, since it is quite disorienting. Also, those amulets are not portkeys, letting go before the teleportation is complete carries a high risk of Dimensional Disembodiment."

"Dimensional Disembodiment?" Ron asks.

"Yes. Various parts of your body being sent to various locations. Ah, well... I'd best be going. Merry Christmas, y'all."

After I leave, "Well, I suppose I should be going, too." Harry mutters somberly.

"The meeting?"

"Yeah... You guys..."

"Yeah, Harry?" Ron prompts.

"... No, nevermind." Harry mutters as he steps trough the hole that doubles as the entrance to the Gryffindor Common room.

"I'm worried about, Harry." Ron states unnecessarily.

_**As am I, Ron... I'd have never said anything if it could have been avoided. Things will change... How exactly, I do not know. Something very bad will happen during this meeting... something unavoidable. Keep an eye on him Ron, he'll be needing you more than ever after today, though I doubt he'll admit it. I will be keeping an eye on him for the time being. **_after a mental sigh, _**For what it's worth, I'm sorry. I wish you all had never met me.**_

_**Sorry for what, Beriath?**_

_**I'll explain later.**_

"Something very bad is about to happen."

"What makes you say that?" Hermione asks.

"...Beriath."

/

The Great Hall...

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry asks as he notices the grizzled old man sitting at the back of the room.

"Indeed. Beriath told me... Everything. He should be here momentarily. I understand that you are to see-"

"That's enough, Albus."

"Ah, Beriath. We were just waiting for you." Dumbledore begins, "I trust that everything is in order for our... guest?"

"Yes. Nagini should be here any moment."

"Na-Nagini!?" Harry stammers.

"Yes. Voldemort is sending a message... and a gift. As I am sure you can image, that is not good."

"I have foreseen- Ah, here it is." I say as the doors fly open, and Voldemort's familiar slithers in, "Step forward Harry, you'll not be harmed yet... well, not physically at least."

"What do you want snake?" Harry asks the serpent in parceltongue.

"I come to deliver a messsage. My massster bid me tell you that he desssiresss that demon'sss power." Nagini hisses, looking at me.

"Nagini said-"

"I know what it is saying, Harry."

"Ssssso, you do ssspeak parceltongue, good. If you will leave the boy to usss, you may ssserve asss my massstersss right hand. What isss you anssswer?"

"I don't do hand jobs, and I will have you master begging me for death by the time I'm through with him."

"Very well, then. I mussst admit that I am disssapointed. Alssso Potter, my Lord Voldemort wissshesss me to inform you that he will be sssending you to sssee your family very sssoon. He alssso bid me give you thissss." Nagini hisses as it relinquishes the package wrapped in it's coils. "With thisss, I take my leave." Nagini hisses as it slithers out of the room.

Harry begins to cautiously open the package.

I put a restraining hand on his. "You do not want to open that package Harry. Believe me."

"Why? I thought you said that I wouldn't be harmed."

"No, Harry... I said _physically_ harmed, that doesn't save you from mental harm. What is in that box _will_ harm you."

"What's in there?"

"No Harry, telling you would be just as bad. Believe me, Potter, there is nothing to be gained by opening that package."

"I must know..."

With a sigh, "I figured you'd say that. Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you." I say as Harry lifts off the top of the, ironically, brightly wrapped package... and becomes completely paralyzed. Be it from rage, shock, or despair, I do not know.

"What was in there?" Dumbledore asks quietly.

"The severed head of Lily Potter." I reply, not bothering to lower my voice. I highly doubt that anyone has ever seen such rage in Dumbledore's expression.

"Voldemort... He will die for this..." Dumbledore growls out between clenched teeth.

"Yes... I believe that he will make the perfect guinea pig for my new spell."

"New spell?" Dumbledore inquires.

"Yes. It is a combination of two of the forbidden spells. 'Malmortuus' as it is tentatively called for the time being... bad death. It is a combination of the cruciatus curse and the killing curse. It will break a persons mind and body, and then it will eventually kill a person. There is no way to stop or cure it, if it hits the target will die. It takes about a year to kill, and every moment of it is a living hell. As a side effect, it prevents the person from dying until the spell is finished, and pain killers and sedatives have a reverse effect. I designed it strictly for Voldemort after foreseeing this move."

"I can think of none who deserve it more."

"Oh, I can."

"Who, then?"

"His Deatheaters... That are just as evil as he but had a choice about becoming so. As such they are just as guilty and worse, because they are cowards. Just because they didn't have the talent to keep up, doesn't mean that they don't deserve the same punishment and worse."

"But if they didn't serve, they'd have been killed."

"Then they should have died. If one is unable to live free, as the individual sees fit, then why live at all?" With a sigh, "When Harry snaps out of it, bring him to Gryffindor Common Room. I fear that this may have broken Harry's mind. We're going to have a bitch of a time rebuilding it."

"B-broken?"

"Yes, Dumbledore, broken."

"What have I done? I should have asked you to kill that snake the moment you told me about it's little visit."

"Yes, you should have... Still, there is no use in dwelling on what has already happened. If you've the time to lament your actions, then you've time to try and fix the problems that they have caused. Where is Alastor?"

"Just outside, like you ordered."

"Good. C'mon in Moody!" I call. Within moments Moody steps out of the shadows at the back of the large room. "Take Harry to the tower."

"Right... What was in the package Nagini brought?"

"Just go. If Harry can still speak, ask him."

"I - I can still speak..."

"I though you were broken... I am glad to see that you appear not to be. That would have created... many problems."

"I thought I was too... but then I was overcome by blind rage."

"Well... that does usually work."

"What are you talking about, Beriath?"

"When a person breaks they lose all will. Which, unfortunately, by it's very nature will feed upon itself, and never dissipate. However, since it is a form of energy, it will follow the rules of energy. Namely that, while it cannot arbitrarily be created or destroyed, it _can_ be redirected. In this instance Harry turned from despair to rage. Doing so may give Harry a stroke, but a mind is better damaged than broken." Turning to Harry, "I take it you heard what I said about my new spell?"

"Yeah."

"We will make Voldemort pay for this. He'll not be lucky enough to die in a year. I have many servants that I keep just for the purpose of torturing my enemies. They are the most talented of the demonic. I shall give Voldemort to the best of them. Let's see now... Voldemort's reign of terror lasted for approximately twenty years, I think maybe a forty year sentence should suffice, then I'll execute him."

"NO! I will be the one to kill him. I want him begging _me _for death before I'm through with him."

"Also, Beriath," Dumbledore begins, "Wouldn't his binding with that demon make a forty year torture sentence all but impossible."

"True, but I can rip that demon-hood away." Tunring to Harry, "As far as _you_ being the one to kill Voldemort, I've no objections. But consider carefully Harry, you've never taken a life before and it is quite different than blaming yourself for another's death. Taking a life is a unique 

experience, just because I do it quickly and easily does not mean that I do not regret each kill. After nearly two-hundred and fifty trillion years, I still remember my first kill. Before you decide to kill Voldemort, you'd best make damn sure that you are willing to relive and regret that moment for a _very_ long time."

"I know what I want..."

"I see. Very well, then I will give you two-hundred and fifty trillion years of skill in the art of pain. I will see to it that he regrets ever hearing the name of Harry Potter."

"When will I get to meet my father?"

"Soon, Harry. Soon."

/

"Did the demon get my message and did the Potter boy get my gift?"

"Yesss, my massster."

"And their reaction?"

"The demon did not ssseem sssurprisssed by your proposssal. The Potter boy did, but did not ssseemed worried."

"And his reaction to the present?"

"I do not know my massster. It wasss likely that they'd have killed me in a blind rage, sssso I left Rattail there. He sssshould be here with a report sssoon. I told him that I'd eat him if he failed."

"Haha... Excellent, Nagini, excellent! A pity that you're not human. You'd have done beautifully as a Slytherin, and even better as one of my Deatheaters. I take it everything else went as planned?"

"Of courssse, my massster. We have the two Weasssleyssss and the mud-blood, alive and unharmed, assss you ordered."

"Excellent. Once Rattail gives his report, you may eat him. He has outlived his usefulness."

"Thank you, massster."

A/N: Thank you to those who have been reading this. This is my first attempt at a Harry Potter story so any reviews would be nice. Im currently writing this on paper and using a friends pc to type it up as my pc is being stupid atm... I've finished up to Ch 6, its just finding time to type it up. Thank you. Please read and Review


	6. Chapter 5: Revenge and Retribution

Disclamer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of J.K.Rowlings work, storylines, etc.

Chapter 5: Revenge and Retribution

"HE DID WHAT!?" I shout in Neville's face, "You were charged with protecting them! What the fuck were you thinking challenging the Deatheaters!? God-fucking-damnit! You could have died... no, you _should_ have died! You fucking RETARD! I _gave_ you the means of instantly summoning me to your location in case Voldemort tried just this! God DAMN it, Neville, I left you in charge because you are as close to Kajokai as Hermione and I didn't think that you were stupid!"

"It was only two... I-I thought I could take them." Neville replies weakly.

Faster than any can see, I smash Neville across the face with my gauntleted forearm, and send him flying into the adjacent wall. My voice going quiet, "One deatheater is easily enough to take on all but Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall, and myself. How could you possibly be stupid enough to believe that you could take on two at once. Now your ego has quite conceivably killed Ron, Ginny, and Hermione; the one who saved your ass in my class."

"NO! I tried to save them. I-"

"Though I _do _suppose that I am partially to blame, great power does give one the feeling of invincibility... that is until someone nearly kills you. The problem is that you are young and have yet to realize that the difference between invincibility and _near_ invincibility, is unfortunately infinite."

"But I _do_ know-"

"SILENCE!" I growl, "You know nothing and you are all the more pathetic for not realizing it. You'd best pray that nothing happens to them. Whatever happens to them... you will follow suit. Consider yourself lucky boy, were you one of mine, you'd have already been delivered to my pain specialists for torture and execution."

"But-"

"I SAID... silence. There is a world of difference, Longbottom, between facing bad odds and coming out alive, and facing impossible odds. Now drag yourself to the hospital wing. You disgust me." Turing to the small crowd that has gathered around us, "Any who help him, will also suffer the pain that Neville, and Ron, Ginny, and Hermione are inevitably going through. He must be punished, and this is it." Turing back to Neville, "If you don't want to die of blood loss, you'd best get moving." After Neville manages to drag himself out of the room, Dumbledore approaches, "Before you even start talking, Dumbledore, I regret having to do it, but Neville _must_ be punished."

"Still... Don't you think you were being a little hard on the boy?"

"No. As I already said, if he were one of mine, he would already be in Chiame's (Blood-rain) tender mercies and then be executed. His crime caused Ron, Ginny, and Hermione to be kidnapped. I can guarantee you that if they're still alive, it is only so they can be tortured. His suffering is nothing compared to theirs. Tell me Dumbledore, how can you honestly expect criminals to learn anything when their _crime_ is _worse_ than the _punishment_?"

"I know, but-"

"There is no time for debating my teaching methods, Dumbledore. If Ron, Ginny, and Hermione are to survive, we must act quickly."

"What do you have in mind?"

"Summon Snape and McGonagall, and wait with Harry in the Great Hall, I'll be along in a few minutes after I contact some of my people. We will use this opportunity to crush Voldemort. We will meet in the Great Hall, then leave in fifteen minutes."

/

The Great Hall...

After nearly two-hundred and fifty trillion years, it still astounds me how quickly rumors are spread. It seems the whole of Gryffindor is gathered in the Great Hall along with the few faculty and a host of strangers. _I suppose I'd best contain the damage._ I think to myself, "Alright, listen up!" I call, "I'm sure that you all have heard some fragmented details about what has happened. These are the facts at the moment: A short while ago, I was in a meeting with Nagini, Voldemort's familiar. Dumbledore, Harry, and Mad-Eye were with me. It was during that time that two deatheaters snuck in, and kidnapped three of your fellow students. Hermione Granger and Ginny and Ron Weasley. Those are the facts as they stand. I _believe_ that they are being tortured as we speak, and death is an inevitability, just a matter of time. That is why we will leave in ten minutes. I suggest that you take this time to say goodbye to whatever professors you wish. Also, you would be well advised to be on your guard. While it is not likely, it is conceivable that Voldemort will attack again while we are away. Keep your weapons on you and if you can't go Bankai, stay with someone who can."

Among the crowd of students and professors are five people unknown to the students and faculty and Kain. Kain is wearing the same clothes he was when Dumbledore introduced him as my potential replacement. Among the five are three men, two of them look much like me right down to their garb, save for the lack of the prosthetics, slight difference in height, and the lack of the black ring around their crimson eyes. Also one has short spiked hair, as opposed to the long pony-tail, and looks cold and hard; the other man's features are soft and looks a loner, but kind nonetheless. The third man has thick but short hair, is pudgy, and is comparatively short... maybe five-foot ten. His garb is similar to my own. Unlike the others, he is wearing black, wrap-around sunshades. The two women are as different from their male counterparts as the sun and the moon. The woman standing next to my spikey-haired comrade is about six-foot six. She has cold, hard ice-blue eyes and straight white hair going down to the middle of her back. She is wearing white leather pants that may as well have been painted on; a white, turtle-neck sweater; a white fur-lined trench coat, and white boots. She is armed with two shortswords with a silver handguard, and a black leather grip. They are resting at the small of her back meant for a downward draw. The other woman is about my height with a pale complexion, and black hair of similar length to the other woman's, also going to the middle of her back, only in lazy curls. Whereas the eyes of the other woman are cold and hard, her eyes are kind and gentle and a deep brown. She is wearing a white kimono with a lavender obi and a violet floral pattern along the left side. Tucked into the rear of the obi are a set of sais and she is wearing nylon sheathes for throwing darts on each of her wrists. Lastly is an oversized halberd along her back. The blade alone is nearly seven feet long, and goes from just over her shoulders to just shy of the floor, and is nearly as wide as her. The handle adds on an additional two feet and ends in an outward facing crescent shaped blade. It looks as though it weighs at least two hundred pounds.

Most of the students seem to be taking the advice to heart, many are giving their farewells to Dumbledore and McGonagall. The white haired woman is drawing plenty appreciative stares from the male populous, the dark haired woman is getting plenty of the boys coming up and flirting... although most seem to think that they're being subtle. Most seem to not 

care about the men. In spite of my harsher teaching methods, even I am getting a few come up to me. Most I ignore and walk over to the woman with dark hair. She is standing with the short pudgy man and the soft man. Feeling the need to mark my territory, more so to see what kind of reaction the students will have when they realize that they have been flirting with my quote-unquote wife more than anything else, not that I felt there was any real need to, I walk up and kiss the woman on the lips. "Hey, Kagome. Have things been well at NULL?"

"As well as usual." She responds blandly, as she snakes an arm around my waist.

Turning to the soft man, "Hey, Adrian."

"Beriath."

And then to the pudgy man, "Nagatsu."

"Beriath. How have things been here? I... left as soon as I heard that you recovered."

"Well enough. A pity you couldn't stick around for us to catch up."

"Indeed. And I would have were it not for the fact that I was in the middle of a hunt."

"Successful, I take it?"

"Of course."

"Good."

After a few seconds, the spikey-haired man approaches with the white-haired woman, and the three professors. "Xion... Valkyrie."

"Father... What are our orders?"

"Adrian and Mad-Eye are to remain behind to guard this place. Now, this is one of the most secure rooms in the entire school. I would suggest that you gather all the students here. I would allocate three professors to each entrance here and to the hospital wing. Adrian, I'd advise you patrol the grounds. Be on your guard. Remember the students take priority. Voldemort is at the shrieking shack outside of Hogsmeade. We will divide into three groups upon our arrival. The primary attack force will be Me, Harry, and Kagome. Group two will be Kain, Xion, and McGonagall. And group three will be Valkyrie, Nagatsu, and Dumbledore. The rest of the professors will stay here and guard the students. Kain and Nagatsu, you're in charge. I-"

"KAIN!? That- that _human-_spawn?! _He's_ in charge!? Why!?" Xion complains.

"Yes, Kain. Because he has more experience, is more powerful, and he doesn't act like a spoiled child when someone else is put in charge. And don't forget, Kagome was still human when she gave birth to you. You are legitimately _half_ human. She became a Yharaxis soon _after_, which is the only reason why I don't rip your tongue out for lying every time you say that you are three-quarters Yharaxis. Now then, Kain, your group is to guard the rear exit. Nagatsu, you will be guarding the main entrance. You will, unfortunately have to guard from the inside. There is an anti-apparation ward around the building, which makes escape impossible unless you get outside. If the deatheaters open the doors then they will be able to apparate out of there. I would also suggest that Dumbledore and McGonagall wait outside the doors. If those doors open, I want you to kill whoever opens the doors. That means _use the killing curse_. It won't harm a Yharaxis. No deatheaters get out alive, is that clear?"

"Yes." Dumbledore and McGonagall respond quietly, clearly hoping that they are not forced into that position.

"Good. Also, the structural integrity of the building is severely compromised. You must be silent in there, since a loud noise could bring the whole building down."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa... Let me see if I'm getting this clearly. If we _do _meet one of these totally deranged killers, we have to engage them _silently_? What do we do; whisper charge, tippy-toe up to them, while screaming 'Shhhh.' and chloroform them with Kain's armpits?" Xion asks 

sarcastically, in what is clearly a feaux-British accent.

"If that's what it takes." Nagatsu and I respond in all seriousness simultaneously.

"HEY!" Kain complains at Xion's, Nagatsu's, and my, slur.

"Well, let's go."

/

... Inside the Shrieking Shack...

The interior of the decrepit building was dark, lighted only through partially obscured, grime covered windows by the midday sun. The sun too was further obscured by dark billowy clouds, that bathed the land in a sense of foreboding that even the most skeptical of muggles could feel. Everything inside, from the floors and walls to the toppled and broken furniture was covered in dust and cobwebs. There were no hints of any usage save by the local spiders and roaches, and whole place reeked of must.

I merely look to Nagatsu and raise the my hand and bear my palm to him to silently tell him to stay put. I signal to Kain to move to the opposite side of the house with two fingers and point off to my left. Once Kain is in position, I begin my ascent up the stairs, which creak unnervingly. Harry and Kagome follow without being asked. At the top of the stairs are three doors, none of which seem to have been disturbed in any way.

"Which one is it?" Harry asks quietly.

Placing my hand to the floor for a few moments, I look back at Harry and point to the middle one. Harry starts towards the door but is forestalled by my arm going across his chest. "You go first and you will die. They know we're here. I am going to bust the door in. I will be knocked back by three curses, most likely the killing curse. Kagome, I want you ready to rush in right behind those curses. Kill all that are garbed in black. There will be one man, bald and a sick-figure of a man. Incapacitate him, but do not kill. I will come in and aid in dispatching the deatheaters as soon as I recover. Harry you are to wait three seconds, at which point you are to collect Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Get them out. Also Kag, we can't afford to use Bankotsu." I say as I gesture to the oversized halberd,.

"I know."

"Are they okay?" Harry asks.

"Ron is. Hermione and Ginny are not. Stick to the plan." I say as I approach the door, and kick it in. True to my predictions, I get hit square in the chest with three killing curses, which send me flying in the opposite direction. As I am going over the banister that forms the border between the second story and a fifteen foot drop to the first floor, the finger portions of my prosthetic gauntleted arm eject and bury themselves deep into the wood of the doorframe. The thin but powerful chains that they are attached to allow me to swing around and burst through the flooring behind Voldemort. With a flick of my wrist the claws are freed and return to my hand. Kagome finishes stabbing the last deatheater in the eye with one of her sais as my prosthetic arm from the elbow down shoots toward Voldemort's neck. Seeming to break his daze in the nick of time he manages to jump out of the window and apparate out of the area. "Damn." I mutter to myself as I approach the window.

"Sorry, Beriath. They kept targeting the mortals with the killing curse, so I didn't have any time to focus on restraining him... not without letting them die." Kagome mutters as she approaches me.

"You did well. I was hoping that Voldemort was not so intelligent. His binding with Blaschdow also seems more advanced than I'd suspected." I reply as I turn from the window to my wife. The blood soaking in her hair and soaking into her kimono, seem to contrast the kind 

looking woman who is now staring at a limp Hermione and Ginny with a concerned expression. "We should get them to the hospital wing."

"Yeah." Turning to Ron, "What did he do to them?"

"He-he tortured them. Forced me to watch as they screamed themselves into unconsciousness."

"How exactly?"

"The Cruciatus Curse."

"I see. Did he use a weapon as a medium?"

"No."

"I thought not. Fortunately, it seems that Voldemort does not yet have access to Blacshdow's knowledge of torture. And what of you?"

"You came in just as they were chaining me to the walls, preparing me to meet the same fate."

"I see." I say as I pick up the limp bodies. "Kagome, you take point. Get us out of here." Harry and Ron turn to look at me, a question in their expression, "Go on." I say as I take a wild guess as to what the question is, "I'll be right behind ya."

Kagome leaps back followed by a loud crash, "Damn."

"What happened?"

"The stairs. They've collapsed."

"Fuck." I say with feeling as I begin to scan the surroundings. Leaning over the banister, "Kain, Nagatsu, get out of here. This building is liable to collapse any second." The groaning walls and floors seem to verify this statement. "Kagome, knock out that wall." I order as I point to my immediate right.

"Done." She responds blandly as she walks over to the indicated wall and changes. She seems to become enveloped in blindingly bright white light, which then seems to solidify into a form-fitting carapace. Blades of solid light form at her wrists and ankles, and at each of her shoulder blades. The blades along her back are each about eight feet long, the ones at her wrists are about three feet, and the ones at her ankles are about a foot long. The blades at her wrists and ankles are serrated, the ones on her shoulders are smooth but are veiled in a yellow light, forming wings of light. Using the blades on her wrists, she makes two vertical slices and two horizontal slices in the wall. "Harry, Ron, grab on."

Harry and Ron look at me, seeming to asks permission. "Go. We don't know how long this building will stay up."

"Wrap your arms 'round my neck. Be careful of my wings though, They're sharp enough to cleave through titanium with minimal effort."

"But air-"

"Don't worry Harry, I don't need air to survive. Besides it's a five second glide. Even if I _were_ mortal, there would still be no threat. Now, _grab on_."

"But-"

"God-fucking-dammit you two, grab on so we can go. The longer you two stand here jawing, the longer _these_ two go without medical treatment." I say with an exasperated sigh

"He's right, Ron." Harry begins, as he wraps his arms around Kagome's shoulders, "We need to go."

With a sigh, "Damn. Alright, let's go." Ron mutters as he follow Harry's example and hangs on to Kagome's other shoulder.

As I approach the hole in the wall my chest plate seems to fuse with the rest of my body 

and eight-foot long black bat-like wings form at my shoulder blades, "Kagome, see to it that everyone gets out safely, I'm going to take these two to the hospital wing. Harry, Ron, I'll not be waiting up for you. There is nothing that you can do for them now, I would suggest that you stay with Kagome, since there is nothing you can do for these two. Also, I would not put it past Voldemort to attack you two if you separate. Got that?"

"Yeah, but-" Ron complains.

"There is _nothing_ that either you or Harry can do for them. Leaving Kagome would be dangerous and foolish. Now, I will not stop you from making all haste to the hospital wing, but if you are attacked your chances for survival will be next to nothing. Would you be willing to explain to Ginny and Hermione why you took such a pointless risk?" I ask as I jump out of the makeshift window, and glide to the snow-dusted ground. As soon as my feet hit the frozen earth, my wings dissolve into my body and I dash off towards Hogwarts.

/

The hospital wing, about an hour later...

"What's their status, Pomfrey?" I ask as I enter the private room.

"Well, I'm not really certain that I can say exactly. Harry and Ron are fine... depressed, but okay. It's Hermione and Ginny I'm not so sure about... they both have severe internal damage. I've called in some help from St. Mungos. They should heal up though... mentally, though..." She finishes with a shrug before turning and leaving.

"I see."

"It'll be a while yet, but they should be fine."

"You lie."

"How- how'd you know?"

"It doesn't matter. Now tell me, what are their injuries?"

With a sigh, "They both have a fractured skull; some brain-side vessels have burst; capillaries burst, most notably in the eyes; burst eardrums; and many broken bones. Hermione has multiple punctures in her right lung and perforated intestine. Ginny has a broken zygomatic arch, broken jaw, the joint of both her knees and one of her elbows has been crushed. Both of her kidneys and her liver have also been punctured. They're both dying, I'm barely able to keep them comfortable. If they are very lucky, they might survive, but because of the fractured skull, stoke, and burst capillaries and eardrums; even if they live they'll be struck blind, deaf, and dumb. They'll be little more than vegetables. I'm sorry Beriath, I really am, but there really isn't any more I can do."

"For as shocked as I'm sure you're going to be for hearing this, you've nothing to apologize for, you've done all you could. Now, if you'll excuse me. I need to heal them."

"You can _heal_ all that!?" Madame Pomfrey asks.

"My power lies in blood, Pomfrey, the very key to life itself. I can heal any injury, and regenerate any limb. Granted, it costs me a massive amount of energy, but..."

"But?"

"I just don't like calling upon that power. While there really is no major cost, it still wipes me out. It also means that whoever I'm facing is proving to be more of a challenge than I expected them to."

"I still don't understand."

"I know. I assume that Dumbledore has briefed you on who I really am, and what the effects of dropping my real name are, right?"

"He has."

"Well, my needing to employ my Chihomonsha, my blood-calling ability, means that the odds of my needing to reclaiming my real name to fight Voldemort have increased explosively. As Beriath, I may not be able to kill Voldemort, which means that his bind to Blaschdow is stronger that I thought. The fact that I must use Chihomonsha now, means that I must move faster and strike harder than I otherwise would. Which in turn means that there is an increased risk to those around me."

"Would taking on your real name be so bad?"

"Yes. Other, lesser demons would be drawn to the power that I emit unconsciously, and they are not careful when it comes to interaction with the world around them. For nine more days, I will be sorely limited."

"What do you mean?"

"I have had my people secretly putting wards around this school, using the ancient magicks... spells, and creatures of legend that are dead to even the most knowledgeable of magi. Until those wards are complete though, the lesser demons would still be able to lay waste to this school. And the ancient magicks are volatile, any interference before the spells are complete would have grievous consequences."

"How strong are these wards?"

"The wards my people are using are normally called upon for protection on cluster galaxies. When the wards are complete, only an Origin level Yharaxis would be able to penetrate them, and there are few enough remaining of those. Less than twenty, and only four of them are threats."

"Who?"

"Heh. Like you'd know them..." I begin sarcastically, "the first and most obvious is Blaschdow-slash-Voldemort, but I took that into consideration and I am having a targeted ward set up, that he should be unable to penetrate. The next is the seventh origin, Amon, though he is no longer an Origin. He is loyal to Blaschdow, but does not know of this situation."

"How do you know that?"

"Because an Origin answers to no one, and if Amon knew about this, he'd have already killed Harry, destroyed Hogwarts, and tried to kill me. The next is Xion, my son."

"But didn't he help you save Ginny, Hermione, and Ron."

"Yes. Which I am surprised about. Xion has no loyalties, and he may have one of his trademark vindictive moments, and attack simply to spite me. You see, Xion _hates_ me, blames his mother for being half-human... and he blames me for quote - falling to emotion and fucking that human bitch - end quote. So anyway, I tore off his jaw and beat him to within an inch of his life... needless to say we keep any interactions with each other to a bare minimum. The fourth is Valkyrie, his wife. Valkyrie was initially a weapon created by an enemy of mine and the first few times we met she tried to kill me, and I her. Naturally, Xion loved her because of that. As it happens, she betrayed her former master and stopped trying to kill me, but we really never trusted each other, and she _is_ loyal to Xion, so whenever he tries to start something she helps him, so... To be frank, I think Xion was just helping so that he could see if he could find any weaknesses in my wards or in me, that he may be able to exploit."

"I see."

"Now if you'll excuse me." I say as I brush by her. There are two small white beds in the small private room. Hermione is in the bed on the left, Ginny is on the right. Between the two beds are Harry and Ron. Harry is facing Ginny, Ron is facing Hermione predominantly, but seems more torn than Harry since he is casting glances at his little sister every few seconds. Both 

of them are wearing grim expressions. "Judging from your faces, I'm guessing that Pomfrey didn't feed you the same bullshit she tried to feed me... either that or you wisely didn't believe her."

"That they'll be lucky to live, and even if they do, they'll be vegetables for the rest of their lives? Hmph. Yeah, she told us." Harry says quietly but angrily.

"All I could do, was stand there and watch... watch as they screamed into unconsciousness..." Ron mutters to no one in particular, to me he adds, "Their lives are over. Even if they live, it won't be the same. I- I almost hope they don't make it... It would be too cruel to make them live that kind of life."

Without word or warning, I approach Ron, place a comforting hand on his shoulder, before punching him square in the jaw. Before he even hits the ground, "Selfish bastard. It is not your place to speak for them, even if what you say _is_ true, and it _damn sure_ isn't your place to decide their fate. Regardless of Pomfrey's prognosis, there is no set future, and no one can predict the future with one hundred percent accuracy. While death and-or vegetable status is-are very likely, there is always a chance that things may not turn out that way. Not to mention the fact that your wallowing in self-pity is not helping the matter, or them. How can you be held accountable, when there was nothing that you could do that wouldn't have made the situation worse? Now, stop blaming yourself and try to think of a way to help, or at least avenge them."

Wiping the blood at the corner of his mouth, "But, I-"

"I don't want to hear any more of your sob story, Ron. I was there. This shit needs to stop, if you are lamenting what you did, or did not; or what you could have done, or couldn't have done: then you're becoming a liability. This fight will be getting more serious, and the number one rule of combat: _Never_ tolerate a liability. _I kill liabilities._ Do I make myself clear?"

"Y-yes."

"Good. Not to mention the obvious fact that had you done anything, you'd have only made the situation worse. Now don't forget, I am a Yharaxis, one that specializes in healing. They are not corpses yet, so healing them is perhaps at the level of light practice. Now behold the regenerative capabilities of an Origin." I say as I hold my hand about four inches above Hermione's head, I glide my hand over her arms, legs, and chest in the same fashion. "I will give it to Pomfrey, she was very thorough with assessing the damage. Just as she said fractured skull, stroke, plenty of capillaries burst, burst eardrums, broken bones, punctured lung, and perforated intestine. All of which has just been healed." I say as I move over to Ginny and do the same, "Ginny has the same minus the lung and intestinal punctures, and plus a broken zygomatic arch, crushed joints, and a punctured kidney and liver... Nice, Pomfrey is two for two." I state as I finish with my hand hovering over her heart, "Again, all of which has been healed. They will be fine, and will awaken soon."

"How soon?"

"Depends on the person, could be five minutes from now or five days. The average though is about an hour."

"Hmmm... Beriath?" Hermione mutters sleepily.

"Or five seconds." To Hermione, "Yeah, Mione, I'm here."

"What happened? I remember being in the Gryffindor common room... I saw a Deatheater, then nothing."

"Nothing? You don't remember anything?"

"Well... I can distantly recall excruciating pain, but..."

"It's okay. While we were distracted by Nagini, Voldemort's deatheaters kidnapped you, 

Ginny, and Ron."

"How are they?"

"They're fine, both fine. Anyway, they took you three to the Shrieking Shack outside of Hogsmeade. Where, from the bits of information I've been able to put together, he tortured you and Ginny with the Cruciatus curse until the two of you went unconscious... made Ron watch the whole thing. They were chaining Ron up to meet the same fate when Harry, my wife, and I came in. Harry and Ron got you and Ginny out while my wife and I fought. Afterward, the only way to get to the exit was destroyed, so my wife and I flew you four to safety. The building collapsed shortly after and some of the others are, at present, searching the remains for any hints of where Voldemort escaped to."

"He escaped?"

"Yes. He apparated out when he got an opportunity. All of his Deatheaters were killed though. I imagine that it'll be a while before Voldemort can screw up enough courage to try and strike again. A decisive strike is out of the question for a while, but we're not out of the clear yet."

"Okay."

"Don't worry. C'mon Mione, I'll take you to your bed in your dorm... I've been in hospital beds enough to know that they are not comfortable." I say as I pick her up, "I may have healed the damage, but you still lost a large amount of blood. You need food and rest... the latter the most, so let's get you back to Gryffindor Tower. Harry, Ron... you two keep an eye on Ginny."

"But-"

"I know, Ron. I know you want to be with your girlfriend, but how will you get into the girls dormitory? Besides, she needs rest, and you really can't help with that." I say as I turn and leave. Hermione has, in the meantime, already fallen asleep.

AN: Hope my readers like where this is going. Because I havn't gotten a single review yet... This'll be the last Chapter for a little bit while I Finish off editing the next chapter. Thank you for reading.


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